


Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis

by MiraclesofPaul



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Banter and Bickering, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Sharing a Bed, falling into domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraclesofPaul/pseuds/MiraclesofPaul
Summary: They get used to sharing a bed while filming the show. Ryan's just trying not to let his feelings get in the way.So Ryan tells himself he’s going to ride out whatever it is they’ve fallen into, but he’ll bow out gracefully when the time comes. He can just enjoy the now.





	Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doradita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doradita/gifts).



> This entire story was written as a surprise for my wonderful girlfriend Tiia, who is without a doubt my favorite person ever. First half of the title is from Snow Patrol’s “Crack the Shutters.”
> 
> [Ricecrispbee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricecrispbees/pseuds/ricecrispbees) made a wonderful [playlist!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJPjCIpQzZtNnQG8Fmfv3hExEBWN28KZy)

The room is eerily dark and _eerily cold,_ to the point where Ryan can’t focus on anything else. It’s also silent-- _too_ silent, and Ryan’s heart is hammering in his chest. His ears are straining for a noise that just isn’t coming, which is honestly freakier than if it did.  


Shane is asleep on the other side of the pillow fort that Ryan built between them. It had seemed like a good idea, putting space between them. Natural even, like the way guys pat each other on the back when they hug just to prove that it’s a manly hug. And this is the way men share a bed, plenty of space and a clear separation.  


Shane had rolled his eyes at him when he saw Ryan put the pillows in place, that same eye roll that clearly stated he thought Ryan was an idiot. And right now Ryan agrees with him a little because he feels pretty sure that something is watching them.  


Well, something besides the camera they had set up to literally watch them all night. The camera that would catch Ryan moving the pillows to move closer to Shane.  


Ryan pulls the covers up to his nose, shivering. They’re in Alaska, sure, but it’s summer and the building has central heating. It shouldn’t be this cold. There are other people in the building. It shouldn’t be this quiet.  


It’s a large, World War II building that the military used for god knows what (“Probably some fucked up shit,” Shane had guessed) that now serves as housing to several families. Well, the families that actually manage to stay, since many have moved out claiming that they feel watched, that things move around or disappear. Apartment 513B, where a demon supposedly lives, remains empty.

And that’s where they’re spending the night, of course.  


Ryan snakes out a hand from under the covers to checks his phone, the dimmed screen still managing to sting his eyes. It’s only 1:38AM. They only went to bed about forty minutes ago. Shane probably fell asleep instantly, not a care in the world.  


If only he hadn’t put up the pillows...  


He is fully aware that he’s using kid logic here. Keeping your feet under blankets won’t stop monsters from grabbing them, and moving closer to Shane won’t stop whatever the fuck is in the room with them from attacking. Still, he feels alone and susceptible to whatever dark forces are hiding in the corners of the room.  


_Just calm down_ , he tells himself, taking a deep breath. _Don’t be afraid_.

The room has no windows. It’s just a freaky, windowless, prison-like room in a haunted fucking apartment complex in fucking Alaska. A proper hospital is probably miles away. He wonders, not for the first time, how he ended up here. Sure, daytime Ryan gets to have a grand ol’ time just living it up and traveling and goofing off with Shane, but it’s night-time Ryan that has to suffer lying awake for hours, feeling chill after chill run up his spine.  


Shane is probably warm. The thought occurs to him, and he instantly feels weird and awkward, as if he’s accidentally said something stupid out loud, a burning feeling of humiliation. He’s just freaking out and being stupid. Ryan can feel the blood rushing to his face, and he gives a quick thanks to the higher powers that the cameras won’t be able to pick that up.  


It shouldn’t be this quiet. It’s a pretty run down building. It should creek and settle and make weird noises that Shane could dismiss easily, something they can fight about. _Probably just teens running down the hall_ , he would say, eyebrows raised in that stupid pretentious face he makes. Shane would just be annoyed at him if he woke up him to tell him that it was too silent.  


Ryan holds his own breath to see if maybe he can hear Shane’s. That sound would at least be familiar, and honestly? It would also be comforting right now. But he can’t hear anything.  


It’s probably that stupid pillow wall, and he curses himself again for putting it up. It was stupid, yeah, okay. He’s not--it’s just that--it just feels _weird_. It makes his stomach feel like tangled knots, warm and queasy and _weird_. It’s what has made dating guys so hard even after realizing that he’s not as straight as he had desperately tried to convince himself he was in high school. He feels feverishly embarrassed to think about sharing something intimate with another guy. With Shane even more so.  


It’s already hard enough to keep up with Shane. Shane is always so quick with his words and his jokes, and Ryan is just doing his best here to keep everything going.  


Ryan flexes his fingers, trying to encourage blood to circulate through them. He swears that they’re going to freeze off.  


It’s only two pillows that separate them. He could move them.  


No, but then that would be on camera, and he’d have to edit it out or have some serious explaining to do if they actually catch something during the night. He can’t quite imagine doing a voiceover explaining that he’d gotten freaked out and had wanted to move closer to Shane.  


Then again, hadn’t he already done it in the Sallie house? He’d been so freaked out and scared, and sure, Shane had laughed a little but he’d just said, “Okay,” and let Ryan move closer. But that’d been different. They’d been in sleeping bags on the floor.  


They’re both sharing a bed now. They’re both under the covers.  


Using the feeble light from his phone screen, he carefully peers over the pillow wall to look at Shane. Shane is facing away from him, completely asleep.  


_Screw it_ , Ryan thinks. Daytime Ryan can deal with all the editing and explaining and all that shit. Fuck that guy for putting him in this creepy place anyway.  


Gently, Ryan lifts the two pillows that separate them one by one, putting them on the floor next to his side of the bed.  


Shane doesn’t stir.  


Ryan scoots closer to Shane, slowly, practically holding his breath and waiting to be caught. Shane _is_ warm. Ryan holds back a sigh of relief. A feeling of calm seeps in.  


He can hear Shane’s breathing now. It’s soft and even, and so very, very comforting. They aren’t touching, but just barely.  


Ryan closes his eyes. He can handle this. He isn’t alone, Shane is here, and if whatever is in the room attacks them, Ryan can use Shane’s body as a human shield. The thought almost makes him laugh. He’ll tell Shane that in the morning.  


*****  


The online pictures hadn’t really prepared Ryan for just how damn fancy the Brighton Mansion truly is. The whole place looks like the Haunted Mansion. (“The one in Disney World, not Disneyland,” Ryan had clarified.) It had a hedge maze in the garden and everything.  


The whole outside of it had given Ryan the creeps. They’d walked around the grounds during twilight, the mansion looming over them giving off gothic vibes. He’s sure it made for some great footage: the incoming night casting a blue haze around them, the candle lanterns that were along the paths, the beautiful flowers everywhere. It was almost like being transported back in time. They’d gotten lost around the maze, and Ryan _swears_ he saw something turn the corner and vanish, something that had looked a lot like the big butt of those fancy 1800s dresses.  


The mansion, however, is now a luxury hotel, and even Ryan has to admit there's really nothing scary about the inside of it, not with the recent renovations. Their room still has old Victorian touches like flowery wallpaper and a rather dramatic bed frame, but there's also a huge flat screen TV and a very fancy bathroom.  


Ryan might have been a little swayed to choose this place just because of the fancy showers. Sure enough Shane practically lit up as he entered the bathroom, yelling, “Ryan! Ryan, look at all those jets! Oh my god, do you think the ghosts use these when the rooms are empty? I’d live in here if I was a hotel ghost.”  


“Yeah, you better enjoy it because it's basically most of our budget.”  


“Oh, I'll make sure to squeeze all the joy juice right out of it!”  


Shane truly loves a good hotel, and Ryan appreciates that about him.  


This place had been home to a murder and three separate suicides, but there was no real ghostly feel once Ryan turned on the TV and an old Batman movie came on, illuminating the whole room. The sheets are very soft, and Ryan just feels comfy and happy. Sometimes he just really feels lucky that this is his job.  


The shower is still running. There’s a large ceiling shower head along with three additional body jets along the sides. Every now and then Ryan can hear him basically moaning, and at one point Shane calls out, “These are fucking amazing! I’ve never been so clean!”

He comes out of the shower wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair is still a bit damp. Shane looks warm and relaxed, and it makes Ryan smile just seeing him.  


“This is hands down the nicest place we've ever stayed in. Can we just exclusively be mansion ghosts hunters from now on?”  


“Oh yeah, let me just call up Buzzfeed and give them a list of our demands. Number one, only stay in mansions.”  


“Number two, the haunted part is optional.”  


Ryan laughs. “Oh we're dropping the ghost hunting part of the show now?”

“Yeah, let's just review fancy hotels from now on. We can be the pool boys instead of the ghoul boys.”  


“You only get one nice hotel stay per season, just like I only do one demon episode per season. Those are the rules.”  


“Well this was a nice pick. That showerhead was actually above my head instead of just hitting my chest. Felt good to be a common man for once.”

“They advertised it on the website. Showers for giants. Thought I'd treat you to a nice shower this season.”  


“Aw Ryan, you big softie! I could kiss you right now.”

A nervous laughter escapes Ryan, his stomach twisting. “How about we don't do that.”  


“Are you sure?” Shane asks, walking towards him. “You don’t want any of my smooches?  


“No. I think I’m good.”  


“They’re real good smooches, Ryan. World famous. I think you’re missing out.”

Ryan laughs and says, “You’re the worst.”  


Shane just shrugs in a _well what can you do_ sort of way. He turns on their night camera, checking that it’s pointed right at them. He turns off all the lights before climbing into bed, leaving only the soft glow of the TV.  


Shane turns to Ryan, a mischievous smile on his lips. “There’s still time for that kiss, Ryan.”  


“Oh my god, shut up,” Ryan says, but he can’t stop himself from wheezing out a laugh.  


“But seriously, this is a really nice place. Doesn’t really seem that haunted, though. It’s more of a romantic honeymoon type of place.”  


“Yeah, it’s really nice,” Ryan says, choosing to ignore the honeymoon comment. “Doesn’t really feel like there are any ghosts in here.”  


Shane laughs. “Well, there are no ghosts in here or out there. I’m sorry to tell you this but there are no ghosts on the entire planet.”  


“Oh, so not _this_ planet, but maybe others? You’re saying intergalactic ghosts are still possible then?”  


“No!” Shane laughs, eyes wide.  


Ryan turns to the camera. “You heard it here first, folks! Shane Madej loves space ghosts!”  


“That is _not_ what I am saying. Don’t go pestering NASA about finding ghosts in space. They’re doing important work.”  


“I bet there are ghosts on Mars. Alien ghosts.”  


Shane laughs again. “This really is your pillow talk, huh? How did all those girlfriends of yours put up with it?”  


“Let’s just go to sleep, ya doofus,” he says, feeling funny about the idea of sharing a bed with Shane and bringing up that pillow talk debate again.  


He turns the TV off, and they settle in. The window curtains are pretty sheer, keeping the room from falling into complete darkness. Ryan closes his eyes, but he can’t help but feel overly aware of Shane, aware that Shane is still facing him.  


As naturally as he can, he rolls over to face away from Shane, feeling self conscious. Ryan’s pretty sure Shane is staring at him. He can practically feel Shane’s eyes on him. Or maybe he’s just imagining it and going crazy. Maybe it’s a ghost.  


He suddenly realizes how small the bed actually is, and how, with both of them facing the wall like this, it might look like they’re spooning.  


Ryan turns over so that he’s now on his other side, facing Shane. Shanes eyes are closed, but his breathing hasn’t evened out yet. Ryan realizes that after all the nights they’ve spent together, he can tell the difference.  


With his eyes adjusting to the dark, he can make out Shane’s face a little. It’s a good face. Ryan feels himself smile softly, stupidly fond of his stupid face. He’s glad Shane’s the one he gets to share this with.  


“There’s no ghost in here,” Shane sleepily mumbles. “Go to sleep. I can hear you thinking.”  


It makes Ryan chuckle nervously at the idea of Shane hearing his thoughts. “You can’t know if there's ghosts in here or not.”  


“Fine, then I'll just protect you from them if they’re here, okay? Won’t let them get ya, so sleep.”  


“Okay,” Ryan says, closing his eyes and ignoring the way his face feels warm. “Good night.”  


“Night, Ryan. Tomorrow we take more showers.”  


*****  


Their last stop is Memphis, Tennessee. Ryan knows he’ll miss the bustle of constantly jetting off to a new location, but by now everyone’s a little tired and homesick.  


Earnestine & Hazel's is actually a lot spookier than Ryan had anticipated. The whole place just _feels_ haunted, like there are eyes watching you as soon as you step in. It also helps that the whole vibe of the place is almost sort of run down. The paint on the walls is chipped, the blue paint revealing the white underneath in large blotches.The whole upstairs creeks as you walk around, and everyone that works there talks very seriously about the supernatural, with the respect it deserves.

They all kind of side-eye most of Shane’s snarky remarks about the ghosts, which makes Ryan snicker, for once feeling like he’s the rational one.  


Originally built as a church in the late 1800s, it went on to host a jazz bar in the basement and a brothel upstairs. This place has supposedly seen thirteen deaths, and according to rumos was also the place where Ray Charles would come to uh, “socialize” with the girls and do heroine in the bathroom.  


Shane’s face had gone very serious at that point, moving his flashlight along the room that quite frankly had an abandoned drug house feel. “Yeah, I can see that,” he’d said.  


The bar doesn’t officially close down until 3AM, so Ryan and Shane sit at one of the tables with their handheld cameras recording, each drinking a beer and waiting for everyone to leave. The rest of the film crew had gone down to Beale Street after filming the interview with the longtime bartender who had plenty of stories about her time in the bar.

The main bar area doesn’t look as spooky as the area upstairs, though it still has its rough edges--even despite the multi-colored Christmas lights hanging along the walls.

“The jukebox is said to randomly play a song that relates to whatever it is people were talking about,” Ryan tells Shane. “They say that on the day that James Brown died, it started playing ‘I Feel Good’ out of nowhere.”  


Shane makes a face like he doesn’t particularly buy it. “Do you think a ghost is picking out the songs or the jukebox itself is possessed?”

“I like to think it’s a ghost picking the songs, you know? Going around tables, really making it personal.”

“So like a late night DJ, but for eternity.”  


“Yeah, just the perfect little song to capture your heart.”  


“Play us a little tune, ghost DJ.” Shane looks around the room, eyebrows raised expectantly. Only two or so customers are still hanging around the bar; the whole place is mostly quiet. Shane shrugs. “Nothing.”  


Ryan opens his mouth to reply, ready to tell him that you can’t just go around demanding songs, but just then the jukebox lights up. A song slowly fades in.  


“ _Wise men say, only fools rush in_ ,” Elvis croons.  


Ryan’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh shit!”  


“ _But I can’t help falling in love with you_.”  


Shane’s eyes are wide, looking a little stunned, before he then rolls his eyes and scoffs. “A bit on the nose to play Elvis.”  


“ _Would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you?”_  


“You literally asked for it,” Ryan laughs. “You wanted a little tune, you got a tune.”  


Shane just waves his hand dismissively. “It’s probably rigged.”  


“Or someone in the bar is in love, and the ghost specifically chose the song for them.”  


“But _I_ was the one that asked for the song,” Shane points out. He crosses his arms, suddenly looking away from Ryan to look at the jukebox.  


“ _Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”_  


That twisting feeling enters Ryan’s stomach again. He suddenly feels very exposed. He takes a sip of his beer. They both sit there, Ryan staring at his beer bottle, Shane at the jukebox. The song plays on. Sitting in silence doesn’t exactly make for an exciting show, but Ryan isn’t sure what the sudden shift in mood means.  


When the song finishes, Ryan clears his throat, trying to push away whatever spell had just fallen on them. “Wanna start setting up upstairs? The crew is probably gonna be back soon.”  


“Yeah,” Shane says, voice still a little more serious than usual. “Let’s go.”  


***  


If the bar had been creepy before, it feels downright terrifying now that the building is empty except for them. Ryan feels like the whole place is crowded with spirits lurking around. A door upstairs is padlocked shut, which is never a good sign. Someone had scratched the letters QR into it, which makes Ryan shudder. (“Questionable Restroom?” Shane guesses.) They also hear a single piano note while they are in the next room. Ryan feels his heart stop when he hears the eerie twinkle. Even Shane seems a little off kilter, like for once he can feel the strange vibes in the place.

It’s already 4AM by the time they actually roll out their sleeping bags and settle down to spend the night. Ryan doesn’t expect that he’ll be able to sleep, given everything that had happened, but the whole season of filming must have caught up to him. He’s asleep before he even has time to freak himself out with all the creaks and groans of the building.

Instead he wakes up due to Shane taking in a gasping, desperate breath and suddenly struggling to sit up.

“What is it?” Ryan asks, quickly reaching for his glasses and flashlight. His heart is pounding in his chest as he shines the light around the room. Nothing’s there.  


“Nothing,” Shane says, rubbing at his eyes with both hands. “I just had a nightmare.”  


“Oh Jesus, dude, I thought a ghost was choking you or something.”

Shane laughs, but it sounded shaky. “No, no just... It’s stupid.”

“What was it?”  


“It’s just…” He shrugs. “Probably the whole Ray Charles thing. I had that dream where someone just injects me with heroin.”  


Ryan would normally make a joke about what a weird fear that is, but Shane looks too freaked out. Ryan can feel himself melt just from looking at him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Ryan says. “Just a bad dream.”  


“Yeah. Yeah, just a dream,” Shane repeats, laying back down.  


Ryan hesitates for a second, unsure how Shane is going to react, before scooting closer to him. “You’re okay. I’m here.”  


Shane doesn’t say anything, just moves his own sleeping bag to meet Ryan’s. Shane turns so that he’s facing Ryan. The flashlight is still in Ryan’s hand, giving off enough light to see Shane’s face clearly.  


“Are you gonna edit this to make it look like I got attacked by the jukebox ghost?”  


“I don’t think I’ll blame that particular ghost. That ghost seemed pretty nice.”  


Shane smiles. “Yeah. It chose a good song”  


“Yeah, a pretty good song,” Ryan agrees.  


“Thanks,” Shane says, voice soft.  


“Of course. Any time.”

*****  


Ryan can ignore it--absolutely _will_ ignore it--but he knows. Deep down, deep deep down where he keeps his insecurities and worst fears, he knows that the feelings he has for Shane aren’t strictly platonic anymore. The knowledge sits in the corner of his brain, unobtrusive and hazy, but most definitely there. If he doesn’t stare at it directly, doesn’t say it out loud or give it a name, then maybe it will fade away just as quietly as it snuck in.  


It’s the proper thing to do. It’s the only way to save the show and their friendship. Things are good, so why rock the boat?  


But the thing is, maybe their friendship is a little _too_ good. And maybe that’s part of the problem.

Shane is just always there. Their desks are close together, they often eat lunch together, they text each other, they hang out--and all of that makes it hard to get over this _thing_. Now that they’re back home, after having spent so much time on the road together, they should be sick of each other. They should relish the time spent _apart_.  


Instead Shane texts him, _Wanna grab pizza?_  


And Ryan instantly feels himself smile, warmth spreading in his stomach. He replies, _Hell yes! The usual?_  


Maybe spending all of his time hanging out with Shane and thinking about Shane isn’t the most useful way to get over it, but he can’t quite help himself. And as long as he ignores it, as long as he just shoves it down, not daring to think about it, it’ll probably go away right?  


It had been fine until several people decide to plan a Friday night out, inviting everyone from the office. Ryan goes happily, ready to have a few drinks and have a good time. Shane is there, and they just naturally drift together, ending up sitting at the corner of the massive table the group has cobbled together.

This place is more of a bar than a proper dance club, but the music is still loud enough that they have to lean against each other to talk. The lights are dim, casting deep shadows along corners that several couples are taking advantage of.  


After a couple of drinks, Ryan feels like his face actually hurts from laughing so much. Shane always makes Ryan laugh, but they’ve been spending the whole night cracking stupid jokes and doing a bunch of bits that aren’t funny to anyone else but them. Ryan feels a warm all over. It’s the alcohol, he tells himself, but this warm feeling in his stomach is usually there whenever he’s around Shane.

He’s leaning against Shane’s shoulder, still laughing, when she a girl comes up to them. She smiles at Ryan and asks if he wants to dance. She has nice teeth, he thinks. And she’s pretty. Brown, loose curls and a nice smile.  


There’s no reason to say no. Ryan _should_ want to dance with her. So he says yes.  


She leads him by the hand to the small dance floor. Ryan looks over his shoulder at Shane, who is taking a sip of his drink and waves at him when he sees Ryan is looking. There aren’t really a lot of people dancing, and he feels self conscious as he starts to move to the beat, his hand on her waist.  


He tries--he _really_ does. Her name is Molly, and she thinks he’s really cute. He feels himself blush when she tells him, and he says, “Thank you. I’m Ryan.” She smiles at him like he’s being funny. He tries to enjoy it, the way she presses her body against his, but all he can think about is how he’d been having a really good time with Shane. He dances three songs with her before giving up.

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly, pulling away. “I’m gonna, uh,” he points a thumb over at the Buzzfeed table, “head back. But thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she says, just as awkward.

Ryan walks away from her quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed. His eyes scan the group for Shane, both out of habit and also eager to get back to just joking around. But Shane isn’t there.

The chairs he and Shane had been sitting in earlier have already been taken up by other people, and so he circles around until he finds a free chair. He looks around the dance floor and the bar area, but Shane’s not there either. Did he leave?

A few more songs go by, but Shane doesn’t return from the bathroom or from taking a call. Frowning, Ryan taps on Andrew’s shoulder to get his attention. Shouting to be heard over the music, he asks, “Have you seen Shane?”

Andrew looks around the bar before turning back Ryan, a smirk now on his lips. He leans closer to says, “Looks like our boy is a little preoccupied right now.” He nods over towards where a couple is making out against the wall, the shadows nearly concealing them. A couple where one of the guys is wearing Shane’s outfit.

But that can’t be right. Ryan squints, hoping his eyes are deceiving him, but no--that’s definitely Shane leaning down, pinning some _guy_ against the wall.

A surge of jealousy hits Ryan’s chest, so sharp and bitter that it he feels like he can’t breathe. No one else seems to be staring at them. Nobody in their group even seems surprised or like they care.  


“That’s kinda trashy,” he says, but no one hears him over the music.  


So Shane can just randomly start making out with guys, and no one cares? They’re all cool and fine with it? Which, okay, yeah, that’s great that they are, but someone being surprised might at least help him feel like he’s not about to lose his fucking mind.

He forces himself to look away from where that guy is most certainly pushing his crotch against Shane.  


Ryan tells himself that he can’t be upset. He’s never made a move, wasn't planning to, and this doesn’t _change_ anything. Even if he had known that it was an option... No, it was still too much to risk. Shane is an adult. An adult who apparently just out of nowhere makes out with guys, and that’s great. That’s absolutely great, and none of Ryan’s business.  


It’s just real goddamn peachy that Shane has found some random guy to make out with.  


Ryan tries his best to the ignore the way his chest feels tight, the way his stomach feels like it has a rock in it just weighing him down, and he goes the fuck home.  


*****

Fine, fine--he’ll admit it. Are you happy, universe? Ryan can admit that he’s a little in love with Shane Madej. _There_.  


He spends the rest of the weekend brooding. Maybe he’s been in love with Shane this whole goddamn time. Maybe this was the reason that he’d felt so nervous asking Shane to join Unsolved. Maybe this is why Ryan feels like he just scored a game winning 3 pointer whenever he makes Shane laugh. Maybe this is why Ryan fucking feels terrible thinking about Shane kissing someone else. Goddamnit, it’s all so fucking obvious now.  


Now that it’s too late. Now that Shane is probably dating trashy nightclub guy. Oh god, just the thought makes him feel kinda sick.  


He wakes up Monday morning feeling tired and bad tempered. Just the idea of having to face Shane, having to pretend everything is fine and normal, feels like too much.  


“You really fucked it up this time, huh,” he tells the mirror. The damn thing just glares back.  


Shane is already at his desk when Ryan gets to the office. He’s wearing headphones, staring at his computer screen intently, and _nope, nope, nope_ , Ryan can’t do this.

He goes and finds somewhere to hide for the rest of the day. He’s gonna have to face Shane eventually--he knows that. His entire life practically revolves around him. Avoiding him forever would be impossible, but Ryan manages to go the whole day without seeing him. He manages to go all of Tuesday too, and on Wednesday when Shane catches him in the break room and asks if he wants to go out for lunch, Ryan lies about having plans already and hightails it out of there.

The rest of the week goes by similarly, with Ryan lying and avoiding and _dreading_ the fact that they’re gonna start releasing videos soon, which means weekly Postmortems and also gearing up to starting filming True Crime and--

Ryan is so, so utterly fucked.  


When he gets home that Friday night, he breathes a sigh of relief. He did it, he managed to be a fucking coward the whole goddamn week. Shane’s smart, of course. He probably knows something is wrong. Ryan is probably ruining everything and it all sucks, but at least he didn’t have to look at Shane in the face with the knowledge that he’s in love with him. Not yet, at least.  


He has a terrible Friday, and then a terrible Saturday. He can’t sleep and he feels sick, except that he knows he’s not _actually_ sick. Just pathetically love sick, which is worse.  


It’s almost 1AM that Saturday night (Sunday morning? Who the fuck cares). Ryan’s on his couch in front of the TV. His eyes are burning from how tired he feels, body heavy with exhaustion, but he can’t sleep. On screen, Pam is drunk at Chili’s, giggling about her second drink.

“Glad it worked out for you, man,” he tells Jim.

His phone buzzes, and Ryan frowns at it. It’s pretty late. Maybe it’s an emergency.

He unlocks his phone and sees that it’s a text from Shane: _Had that dream again_

He could pretend he didn’t see it. He could text him back in the morning all, oh sorry man, I was already asleep. What dream did you have?

But he knows exactly what dream and something tightens in his chest at the memory of Shane all shaken up in his sleeping bag.

_Wanna come over?_ he types out, staring at the words, thumb hovering over the send button. This is probably a bad a idea. It’s almost definitely a terrible, terrible idea. He hits send.

Shane replies instantly with a car emoji, and even as his heart races with panic, Ryan can’t help but wheeze out a laugh.

Fuck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Ryan only has around 18 minutes to freak out. He runs to his room and puts on pajama pants, not really wanting Shane to see him in his underwear this particular night. He throws away the trash that had been piling up and picks up all his clothes from the floor.

“It’s fine, it’s just Shane,” he mutters to himself. “You’ve done this thousands and millions of times, you idiot. And you were in love with him then too, so no excuses.”

Ryan takes one last deep breath when he hears a soft, gentle knock on the door.

Shane is wearing his glasses and Star Wars pajama bottoms.

“Cute jammies,” Ryan says, and instantly feels himself regretting his words.

But Shane doesn’t even blink, just looks down at Ryan’s and smirks. “You too, Paddington Bear.” Shane walks into his apartment like he just can, and Ryan lets him.

He sits down on the couch, and Ryan follows, sitting on the other side, careful to keep his distance.

“I like this episode,” Shane says, eyes on the screen as Michael hugs Phillis and says, “You know what? The only thing I am worried about is getting a boner.”

Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to have on.

They watch in silence for a while, Ryan overly aware of Shane sitting next to him. He’s in love with Shane. And now Shane is here in his apartment.

“So,” Shane says, turning to him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Ryan sighs. “Just a bout of insomnia.”

Shane nods like he gets it. “Kinda weird being back home, isn’t it? I got so used to seeing you everywhere.”

Ryan can feel his heartbeat pick up, feels his stomach squeeze itself into a knot. Shane so totally knows that Ryan has been avoiding him, despite how hard Ryan tried to make it seem like he hadn’t been.

“It’s definitely weird,” he says, probably replying too late and sounding weird. _God, get it together, Bergara_. “I think I forgot how to sleep alone.”

No, that was the wrong thing to say. It’s too open, too honest and vulnerable and pathetic. Godammit, what is it about Shane that just--just makes his mouth stop working like this?

But then Shane says, “Yeah, me too.”

“Really?” Ryan asks, because he can’t quite believe it.

“Yeah.”

Ryan’s not completely sure, but he thinks he might be hallucinating. Did he fall asleep on the couch? Has he really missed Shane this much that his brain just broke and now he’s fucking Tyler Durden-ing late at night?

He doesn’t know what to say, but Shane is looking at him expectantly. “I didn’t know you liked guys,” he blurts out, because apparently he has no fucking control over his mouth tonight.

Shane’s eyebrows go up in surprise, and yeah, okay, so maybe this isn’t a dream. Maybe just a horrifying nightmare. Shane says, “I do. It’s not like, a secret or anything. I just happened to be dating Sara for a long time, and it just never really came up much.”

“I just didn’t know.”

“Does it bother you?” He’s frowning now, looking almost defensive, and no, God no.

“No, it doesn’t _bother_ me.” _I like guys too_. He should say that. He could just open his mouth and say it. Instead what comes out is: “Now we can brand ourselves as the bi-pire boys instead of the ghoul boys.”

Shane laughs, that startled, unexpected laugh. “You’re finally admitting ghosts aren't real? We’re gonna go after bisexual vampires now?”

“First of all, ghosts are real. Second--”

“They’re not real.”

“ _Second_ ,” Ryan continues, his heart racing, trying to make himself just fucking say it despite the choking, burning feeling in his chest, “I just mean that we’re both...bi. So. Just a...fun little pun on that...on that fact.”

Shane looks stunned, and Ryan can’t quite look at him in the eye. Seconds tick by, and Shane doesn’t say anything. Ryan feels like he’s about to break out in a cold sweat.

“Ryan Bergara!” Shane suddenly says, arms flying out wildly, turning his body to fully face him. “ _You’re_ into guys? _You_?”

“It’s not _that_ shocking.”

Shane thinks for a moment before saying, “No, you’re right. There have been dozens of clues. I thought you were joking when you said you wanted to fuck Mothman, but that was foolish. Now I see you were perfectly serious this entire time.”

Ryan laughs. He feels a bit dizzy with relief and exhaustion. “No! I mean, Mothman does have a nice body, but--”

Shane points an accusing finger at him. “No point denying it, sir. I have you on tape!”

“I believe what I said was that I wanted to _marry_ Mothman.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Ryan, but married people still fuck. If you’re married you still get to fuck him. You get to fuck him every night.”

“We are not talking about this right now!”

“We’re talking about nothing _but_ this for the rest of our lives!”

Ryan has to clutch his stomach from laughing so hard. It’s so late, and he’s so tired. And Shane is here. “You’re the worst,” he says helplessly through his laughter. “Why are you even here? You should’ve booty called your new uh, makeout guy.”

Shane shrugs noncommittally. “I was just drunk and he was there and... I don’t know. He was okay. I kinda refused to give him my number.”

Ryan feels a surge of happiness in his stomach, feels himself smile wide. Relief pours all over him. “You gave that poor guy one of your famous smooches and then just bailed?”

“Smooch ‘em and lose ‘em, baby! That’s my style.”

Ryan laughs loudly, brining a hand up to his face to try to cover his large grin. “I seriously hate you right now.”

Shane’s grinning back at him. “No you don’t. But hey, thank you. For telling me about you, I mean. Is it something you figured out recently?”

“Uh, not exactly. Since college? Sort of. But I just kinda found it easier to date girls, and then there was Helen and that’s pretty much it.”

Shane nods. “I think I’ve always known, but it was confirmed when I was fourteen and Billy Anderson held my hand during a hayride. His parents then moved, and I was crushed.”

“A real teen tragedy.”

“I made a sad mixtape.” He laughs and shrugs. “A lot of Backstreet Boys songs. It was very cathartic.”

Ryan’s heart feels so warm and full of fondness at the idea of a gangly, awkward teenage Shane picking out the perfect songs to set as a soundtrack to his heartache.

He yawns, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“You sleepy?” Shane asks.

“Yeah. It’s almost three,” he says, checking his phone. “It’s been a weird week.” He suddenly feels the urge to share with Shane how much he’s missed him, how much this whole week has sucked. “Let’s go to sleep,” he says instead.

Shane follows him to his bedroom.

This should be weird. This should be awkward--not just the normal level of awkward that he usually operates in around Shane, but like, _make a total fool out of himself_ awkward. Instead he just gets under the covers, and Shane does too. It feels familiar. He feels happy and safe, as stupid as that might sound.

“Goodnight, Shane.”

“G’night,” Shane says back, voice right next to him, tucked into Ryan’s bed.

Ryan closes his eyes. He’s asleep soon, deep and undisturbed.

***

His entire body feels relaxed and well rested as he wakes up. It’s a huge relief after so many days of feeling like total shit.

Shane is right there next to him, still asleep, face unguarded and soft.

His heart aches with affection. If only he could have this. What would it be like to wake up and see this every morning? Not just when they’re traveling, not just because of a nightmare. What if Ryan was allowed to touch him, pull him closer, kiss him?

No, god, this is not helping at all. Ryan sits up and rubs at his eyes. He puts on his glasses and says, “Get up, you big ol’ lumberjack! It’s almost noon.”

Shane makes a sleepy complaining noise before stretching. Eyes still closed, he asks, “Is it really that late?”

“Yeah.”

“Obi’s going to kill me for not feeding him his breakfast.” He reaches for his own glasses and sits up. “Did you say lumberjack? Cause now I want waffles.”

Ryan laughs. “Waffles? Fine, well then let’s go to brunch like every other fucking millennial in L.A. Get up.”

They swing by Shane’s place first so he can feed Obi, brush his teeth, and get dressed. Brunch is pretty nice, just the two of them goofing around. Ryan almost manages to forget the whole ordeal. It’s just _them_ , like it always has been.

They’ve only got a couple of bites left on their plates when Shane says, “So why were you avoiding me this whole week?” He says it very casually, as if they were just talking about work or a movie.

Ryan feels stunned, like his brain hasn’t caught up, like he can’t move. “What?” is all he manages.

Shane shrugs. “It just seemed like you were trying not to see me.”

“No, I was just busy,” Ryan says before taking a bite of his hash browns to stop his mouth from revealing everything. He’s never been able to trust his mouth around Shane.

“Oh,” Shane says. “Okay.”

Ryan can’t tell if Shane believes him or not. Shane’s poker face has always been good. He doesn’t like lying to Shane, but the truth would be too much right now. He can’t wreck it all now, not when they’re having such a good time together.

He decides to go with a half truth. “Things were kinda rough for me this week. But it’s better now.”

Shane’s look of concern is a little too honest, and Ryan has to look down at his plate to avoid it. “I’m glad it’s better,” Shane says. “And you know that if you need anything, I’m--”

“No, yeah, I know. Thanks.” Ryan smiles, genuinely glad to hear it but desperately wanting to move on to a safer topic. “So, what do you thinking of doing a two part episode on Nessie for the next season of Supernatural?”

“I’d be down for that. We’ll drain the whole goddamn lake if we have to!”

Ryan would breathe a huge sigh of relief if it wasn’t so obvious.

*****

Monday morning feels different. Maybe a good sort of different, maybe just strange--he’s not quite sure. But it definitely feels as though some sort of barrier has been breached. If nothing else he’s learned this: he can be in love with Shane and still act normal. Or well, his own level of normal, which was probably never _completely_ normal anyway. His face hadn’t melted off like in Raiders of the Lost Ark just from looking directly at Shane--which honestly had been a concern of his. He hadn’t immediately spilled his guts, he hadn’t begged Shane to marry him, or started crying just from his overwhelming misery.

It’s good to know. He had been so convinced confronting his feelings would mean change, would mean the end of the show and dooming himself to eating ice cream in front of the TV. Instead it was just….as it always has been, except perhaps with a big more heartache.

Shane knows Ryan likes guys, and the world didn’t end. _Shane_ likes guys, and it’s okay. As long as Ryan doesn’t have to see him make out with anyone, it’s fine.

The week goes on like that as usual, and maybe that’s what fools him into thinking he has a proper handle on this. Maybe that’s why Thursday night he accepts Shane’s invitation to hang out.

He’s in Shane’s kitchen, watching Shane grab Obi from the counter.

“Hey, mister,” Shane tells his cat sternly, holding Obi up so that they’re face to face, “you know the rules. No getting on the counter. This is the last straw.”

“You tell him,” Ryan says.

“Into the trash you go.” Shane walks him over to the trash can, dangling him over it. “Any last words?”

“Tell him you want to live, Obi! Beg for forgiveness.”

Shane laughs and pulls Obi back up, cradling him in his arms like a baby. “I’ll accept Bergara’s groveling on your behalf. You’re safe for now.”

“One of these days I’m gonna come in here and poor Obi is going to be encased in glass on your wall. And that’s when I’ll know your life of crime has started.”

“No, I need him alive so I can pet him as I explain my evil schemes to the poor cop who finally catches me.”

“I can’t believe you’d drag Obi into your life of crime. You want him to be an accomplice?”

“Well it’s better than killing him! Plus I think he’d make a good crime partner. He’s very stealthy and a bit of a bad boy.”

Ryan laughs. “We can get him a leather jacket to cement his bad boy status.” He checks the time and sighs seeing how late it is. “I guess I should get going,” he says reluctantly.

“Oh,” Shane says, “yeah, okay. Or…”

“Or?”

Shane shrugs. “You could stay over.”

“Like a pajama party?” Ryan asks, smiling. “Are we gonna play truth or dare and make prank phone calls?”

“Yeah, if you want. I’m pretty good at braiding hair, too.”

This is dangerous. This is not something he should be doing. He should go home.

“I don’t have pajamas with me though.”

“You can borrow some of mine.”

He should say no.

Instead he puts on Shane’s pajama bottoms. He has to roll up the legs quite a bit, and when he comes out of the bathroom, Shane grins, looking absolutely delighted.

“Shut up,” Ryan says preemptively. “It’s like putting on clothes made for giants.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to buy doll clothes so that you can have something that actually fits.”

_Next time_. There’s really no reason to be doing this. They haven’t been drinking. It’s only 1AM--not that late to be out driving. He doesn’t even live _that_ far away, actually.

They still climb into Shane’s bed. Obi jumps up and settles on half of Shane’s pillow, forcing Shane to get closer to Ryan’s side. This is a bad idea. This is 100% a very bad terrible idea. Their arms are touching.

Shane’s bed is actually quite comfy. Ryan is maybe freaking out just a little bit.

“If you hear strange noises at night, it’s just Obi opening drawers. He does that sometimes.” Shane’s voice is so soft and low, and so so close.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your entire apartment is crawling with demonic spirits after all the times you’ve provoked them.”

Shane chuckles. “Well unless they’ve possessed Obi and that’s what gives him the ceaseless desire to open up my sock drawer at four in the morning, I haven’t seen any.”

“What do you have in there that he wants so bad?”

“Oh y’know, just socks, some candles, pentagrams, a Satanic bible--oh no!” He turns to his cat. “It's been staring at me right in the face the entire time!”

Ryan laughs, feels his heart fill up with affection, and it almost slips out. He almost can't resist saying, _god, I can’t believe I'm in love with you._

Instead he puts on his Unsolved voice and says, “This is a case that has finally been...solved.”

They giggle stupidly in the dark.

***

Shane’s alarm wakes them up, a sharp, annoying sound.

Ryan groans in protest and presses his face into the warm pillow. Except…

Ryan’s eyes snap open, realizing very quickly that he is actually tucked into Shane’s chest, face pressed into his warm t-shirt. Shane’s arm is around him, holding him in place.

Shane stirs awake as Ryan holds himself very, very still. What in the _everloving fuck_?

Shane moves his arm off of him, turning to grab his phone off the bedside table. Then Shane sits up, stretching, and acting completely normal, as if they hadn’t just spent the whole night cuddling--seriously, _what the fuck_?

“Morning,” Shane says, sounding sleepy and not at all like he’s freaking out about what they spent the night doing. “Do you wanna grab bagels before work? I could really go for a bagel.”

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good,” Ryan manages, still trying to figure out if maybe he fell into a different dimension.

Seeing that they’re up, Obi heads to the door, loudly meowing his demand for breakfast. Shane says, “Yeah, okay, okay. I’m up,” and heads out to the kitchen.

_What the fuck_?

Ryan sits there on Shane’s bed, hands over his face, trying to get himself to calm down. Shane is acting like this is normal, so he can’t freak out. Maybe it is normal? Maybe Shane just goes around cuddling all his friends while they sleep, and Ryan is just making a big deal out of nothing.

They don’t talk about it as they head to Ryan’s apartment for him to change and get ready for work. Shane sits down in the living room and waits for him. Ryan’s having a bit of a hard time looking him in the eye, but for the most part he’s managing to act like he didn’t nuzzle into Shane’s chest just an hour ago so he’s counting it as a victory.

They don’t talk about it on their way to get bagels and coffee, either. Instead they argue about which slasher movie is the greatest of all time. (Shane: “I’m gonna go to your house and burn your fancy film degree if you’re seriously telling me that anything is better than Halloween!”

Ryan: “Texas Chainsaw Massacre is superior in so many ways--I’ve literally written an essay about this!”  


Shane: “Did it get an F? Because that’s what I would give it!”)  


Shane insists on stopping at this little hipster cafe near the office called Ella's. There's a few people already camped out on the tables, hunched over laptops, probably working on a screenplay. The place is trying a little too hard to have a vintage vibe. The girls behind the counter all have on red lipstick and pearl earrings. Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon” is playing a little too loudly.  


The girls know Shane by name, giving him a genuine smile. They ask if he wants the usual. Shane says, “Yes, please! Thank you, Angie. And can we also have some bagels and another coffee with cream, no sugar?”  


Ryan can’t help but smile at Shane knowing his order.  


Shane sings along with Sinatra under his breath as they wait. Ryan wouldn’t have exactly pictured Shane coming here, probably would never have come in himself, but he thinks that maybe it’s got a sort of charm--even if it is trying a bit hard.  


The coffee and bagels are pretty good, and the rest of their ride to work is smooth.

He almost, _almost_ manages to forget that they (technically) slept together. And then as Shane is pulling into the Buzzfeed parking lot, Ryan feels his stomach sink at the realization that they’re _arriving_ to work together which is a pretty obvious sign that they spent the _night_ together. What are their coworkers gonna think? How are they gonna just walk in together? He can feel his eyes getting wide with panic.  


“Ryan? You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah.” Ryan shakes his head, lets out a nervous laugh. “I just, y’know. Suddenly realized how close the deadline for the next True Crime script is.”

“I’m sure whatever you have is gonna be good,” Shane says encouragingly. “I’m excited to find out what you’ve got cooking.”

As it turns out, his coworkers either don’t notice anything or simply couldn’t care less. No one says anything. There aren’t even any jokes or meaningful glances, which is...perhaps a little disappointing. It’s a big deal to Ryan, but it’s apparently not even a big deal to _Shane_ \--even though he’s half of the entire goddamn situation.

Ryan wishes they’d had the night camera running. Was he the one that turned to Shane and snuggled up to him? Did Shane pull him close during the night? It’s drives him a little crazy, and he can’t stop thinking about it. Working on anything is pointless.

He mostly just sits at his desk, staring at the screen without really seeing anything. He should really be more careful. He’s already in love with Shane. He can’t just carelessly spend the night with him like this. Obviously it meant nothing to Shane, so Ryan just has to be a big boy and learn to put distance between them. Maybe he should give Tinder a shot, or hell, maybe even Grindr.  


Something in the corner of eye catches his attention. He turns his head just in time to catch Shane quickly lowering his phone--suspiciously quickly. Ryan narrows his eyes and takes off his headphones.  


“Hey! Are you filming me?”

“Who, me? Ryan, that’s absurd, of course not,” he laughs, that obvious fake one. “Oh look, I’m getting a call.” Shane raises his phone up to his ear. “Hello? Mr. Mayor! Yes, hello, one second.” He covers his phone with his hand and fake whispers to Ryan, “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s the Mayor.”

Ryan laughs, calling out to Shane, “Yeah, can’t keep the Mayor waiting!” as Shane speedwalks out of there.

When he checks Instagram later, sure enough there’s a video of Shane filming him, using that sparkly, purple superzoom filter on him.

He forgets all about dating apps.

***

Shane drives him home, though they spend 30 minutes just sitting in Shane’s car just talking. It feels a little strange to say goodbye after being with each other for so long. Part of Ryan wants to ask Shane if he wants to come in, but he has a feeling that would just lead to another 24 hours of them being together.

Entering his apartment alone feels weird. It’s that nagging feeling in the back of your brain, like you’ve forgotten something but don’t know what. It follows him around the whole afternoon.

By the time he goes to bed, he feels tired and annoyed at himself. How can it be possible to miss him already?

Giving up, he sighs and reaches for his phone. He types out several different greetings, deleting each one quickly. They’re all far too embarrassing.

He settles on just: _Hey_

Shane: _Hey!_

He stares at the little exclamation point, trying to decipher whether it means anything. Probably not. He rolls his eyes at himself.

Ryan: _Whats up?_

Shane: _Getting ready for bed. You?_

Ryan: _Same_

Shane sends a picture of his face. He’s lying down, the frame just big enough to show most of Shane’s face and Obi on his pillow. Ryan grins stupidly at his phone. God, he loves Shane’s stupid face so much.  


He sends Shane a picture of just him, pouting. He texts back: _I miss Obi_ , not brave enough to write what he really means.  


Shane: _Well he’s mine and not for sale, but I can be persuaded to offer you some visitation rights_

Ryan: _I want him on weekends_

Shane: _Now i’m starting to think you’re only using me for my cat_  


Ryan: _I’ve actually been using you for your cat the entire time. It’s all been a very elaborate ruse_

Shane: _You monster! After I trusted you?? #AllMenAreTrash_

Ryan laughs, and god, he misses Shane so much. The space next to him on the bed feels empty.

They text until almost two in the morning. He falls asleep with his phone in his hand.

*****

Ryan realizes quickly that his biggest problem is that he just can’t fucking leave well enough alone. He has to go ghost hunting even when he’s terrified, and he keeps spending the night with Shane even though he _knows_ it’s going to bite him in the ass.

He doesn’t plan for it to happen, exactly. They hang out like normal, and then they just...forget to say goodbye.

Ryan doesn’t want to exam it too closely. He’s doesn’t want to know if Shane is just using him as a substitute for an actual relationship. He doesn’t want the gut-stabbing realization that this probably doesn’t even mean anything to him. The second Shane finds someone else he’ll be gone.

It’s happened four more times in the past two weeks. They wake up glued to each other in the morning, and each time Ryan thinks that surely _now_ they have to talk about it. This can’t be normal behavior for two grown men--no matter how much more relaxed Shane is about bedsharing and casual touches between two guys. But Shane never brings it up, and so then _Ryan_ doesn’t bring it up.

He almost does once. They’re driving to work, Ryan behind the wheel, Shane in the passenger seat. Shane is singing along to a Taylor Swift song that’s on the radio--even though he knows almost none of the words and is mostly just making random noises.

He could say, _Hey, pretty weird how we keep snuggling in the middle of the night, right?_ But no, that doesn’t seem right. Maybe a more direct approach, like: _Let’s talk about how we fall asleep in each other’s arms._ No, that would be too fucking awkward. _I’m in love with you and I want us to get married and I’ll even put up with your terrible singing if you’ll just have my babies._ God, fuck no.

Instead he says, “I’m going to crash this car and kill us both if you don’t stop singing.”

Shane turns up the volume, voice going annoyingly high pitched as he sings, “Just take me hoooome!”

So they don’t talk about it.

And maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad if Ryan didn’t miss him so much more now. _Not_ being with Shane is starting to feel abnormal. His bed feels empty, the apartment too still. It takes him forever to fall asleep. He tries to resist the temptation to text Shane each night, but most of the time he either fails or Shane messes it up by texting him first.

Ryan knows he should be more careful, but now that they’re here, he’s not sure how to go about untangling things. And he doesn’t really even want to.

Which is probably how that Friday he finds himself on Shane’s couch, sharing a comically large bowl of popcorn and watching The Blair Witch Project. Shane keeps leaning close to Ryan, lowering his voice and saying, “That’s gonna be you next season.”

On screen Josh is screaming in agony while his friends call out to him.

Shane leans in again and says, “I’m gonna get us lost in the woods.”

“Shut up, you dickhead!” Ryan laughs, shoving Shane away.

“I just think exposure therapy would be really good for you, Ryan. I’m trying to help,”

Ryan mimics back, “Oh it’d be so good for you, I’m just throwing you in the woods to help!”

Shane laughs. “Your brain is going to melt. It’s going to be wonderful.”

“Give me that bowl. I’m revoking your bowl holding privileges.”

Shane hands it over, still laughing.

Their hands don’t touch as they both reach for popcorn. There’s even a respectable amount of space between them on the couch. Even so, Ryan can’t quite shake off the feeling that this feels an awful lot like a date. No matter how many times he tells himself it’s not, he can’t quite get rid of the thought.

Ryan just wants to kiss him. Shane is right there. He could just lean in and--

No. No, he shouldn’t. He can’t.

When the movie ends, Shane says, “I just did laundry yesterday. You get extra clean jammies today.”

“It’s a bit late, I should probably head home,” Ryan says, avoiding looking at Shane, _trying_ to do the right thing.

“Come on,” Shane says, already heading to the bedroom.

Ryan shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t. But he follows.

*****

Ryan now has a toothbrush at Shane’s house. It’s pink. Shane had brought it up so casually, just an offhand, “Oh yeah, there’s a new toothbrush in the second drawer, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Ryan had said. _Did you get this just for me?_ he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, too scared that the logical answer would be no.

So Ryan bought him one too. It’s green. It just seemed like the polite thing to do.

Things are definitely getting out of hand, but it’s a little bit like witnessing a car crash. Seeing the trajectory, bracing yourself for the impact, knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it. This morning when he woke up they were spooning, Shane behind him, his arm draped over Ryan’s waist.

But they don’t talk about it. It’s almost starting to feel normal now.

Ryan’s too weak to stop it. He knows that if he told Shane about his feelings, Shane would step up and put distance between them. Shane’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do this if he knew how Ryan felt, how much it made his heart race, made his stomach flood with affection. But he just can’t bring himself to do that.

Instead he starts borrowing Shane’s clothes. It’s not really a big deal or anything. Ryan was out of clean shirts (because he ignored a lot of chores to go goof off with Shane), and Shane just let him borrow some. He didn’t even think anyone would notice, but TJ takes one look at it and goes, “Is that Shane’s shirt?”

Ryan looks down, feigning surprise. “Oh, is it?”

TJ raises an eyebrow at him, clearly not in the mood for this. “I’m pretty sure it is, yeah.”

“Then I guess it is,” Ryan says, shrugging. He can feel the blood rush to his face, but he keeps his pace slow and steady as he walks out of the Unsolved set.

He technically didn’t steal this shirt or the other two. It’s not exactly stealing when Shane was the one that let him borrow them, and it’s also not stealing if he goes to Shane’s place often enough that he can return it in less than 72 hours. And if a small stash of Shane’s clothes has suddenly started living in his closet, that’s also not Ryan’s fault.

Shane has just slowly infested all the little corners of Ryan’s life. Ryan’s apartment now has Frosted Flakes because Shane likes them. Sometimes in the morning he has to figure out which boots are his and which are Shane’s. Shane was also with him the last time he bought body wash. He insisted on picking one out, and now both of them sometimes smell like tropical coconut. Even _basketball_ has been infiltrated.

Ryan is watching the Lakers play the Bulls, hands clenched into fists as Lauri fucking Markkanen scores another 3 pointer.

“Goddamnit,” Ryan mutters, “there’s still two quarter left. Get it together, boys.”

“The Bulls are gonna win.”

Ryan snaps his head to look at Shane. They’re both on Ryan’s couch, Ryan facing the TV, Shane completely facing Ryan, his legs draped over Ryans lap. He’s smirking at Ryan, that gleefully evil one he gets when he wants to rile Ryan up. And it’s working.

“You’re not even watching! Go back to looking at pictures of hot dogs, or whatever you were doing,” Ryan says, waving his hand at the laptop Shane had been staring at this whole time.  


“You know what types of hot dogs I was looking up? Chicago style hot dogs, because they’re superior. Just like the Bulls. And we’re going to win.”

Ryan laughs. “Fuck you! Get out of my house! Get your stupidly long legs off me and go!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Illinois just makes ‘em better. Me and number 24 over here are just two white dudes who were gifted with height. You can’t blame us for that.”

“He’s not even American! He’s Finnish! You can’t claim him as one of your own.”

“Oh really?” Shane turns to the screen, nodding approvingly. “Wow, the Finns sure know how to make ‘em. And the Bulls know how to pick ‘em, which is why we’re the best.”

“I hate you, and I’m ignoring you now,” Ryan says, turning the volume up.

Shane’s smirking evilly at him, obviously proud of himself. He keeps cheering whenever the Bulls score, and as maddeningly infuriating as that is, Ryan can’t remember having this good of a time watching a game with anyone else.  


The Lakers lose the game, but watching Shane pretend to give a shit about basketball and even do an awful celebration “dance” almost makes it worth it. _Almost_.  


*****

The girls at Ella’s know Ryan’s name and order now. They even sneak him some free cookies every now and then. (Shane: “I’m just saying, there were never any extra cookies thrown in when it was just me going in. Looks like someone’s got a little crush on you, Ryan.”  


Ryan: “Keep talking and I won’t share them with you.”  


Shane: “No, wait, I want the cinnamon one.”)

As they’re waiting for their order, it dawns on Ryan that they come here at least once a week. There’s something so...domestic about their routine. He looks at Shane, who is wearing Ryan’s Lakers snapback and scrolling through his phone. Ryan holds back a sigh, once again asking himself how he managed to get here.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as a new song starts and Shane suddenly turns to him and pokes him in the ribs.

“It’s our ghost song,” Shane says, as ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ comes on.

“Oh yeah!” Shane is smiling at him, and Ryan automatically smiles back. “Good ol’ jukebox ghost.”  


“Ghosts aren’t real,” Shane says, “but that was a little spooky.”

“I’m going to make you say that on camera.”

“I’ll deny it!” Shane says passionately, and Ryan can’t help but laugh. “They probably have a remote or something.”

He bumps his shoulder against Shane, still laughing. “You can’t take it back. Ghosts are real, and they love Elvis. Elvis _is_ a ghost, actually. That’s why people keep seeing him.”

They get their coffee and continue bickering about dead celebrities and whether they’re now ghosts or not all the way to the office.

But the thought sticks in Ryan’s brain, and he later pulls out the footage from Memphis. It had been a good episode. They had enough spooky incidents that he was able to edit out Shane’s nightmare from that night. He hadn’t seen the footage since the episode had aired.

Looking at it now, it felt like looking at videos from a lifetime ago. He can spot his nervous energy around Shane now, how he stiffened when Shane even _stood_ too close to him, how he overcompensated by trying too hard. And now…

Now Shane slept over at his house last night, and Ryan woke up tucked into his side. They’re full of casual touches now too, playful shoves, hands on shoulders, leaning on each other. Whatever sense of personal space Ryan used to have is gone.

He keeps rewinding the part where their song comes on. Shane looks so surprised, maybe even scared, before quickly hiding it behind a dismissive remark.

Shane’s probably right and the whole thing is just set to go off, but _what if_? That’s the part that always gets him, no matter how far fetched an idea might sounds. Maybe there’s something beyond human understanding, just a _chance_ the universe defies even logic and science.

But Shane… That’s a dead end, no matter what song a ghost plays for them in a haunted bar. Ryan is sure he couldn’t survive ripping his heart open and having Shane turn him down. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if Shane looked at him with soft eyes full of pity and told him to his face that he was sorry but that he just didn’t feel the same way.  


Shane means too much for Ryan to lose. Shane is more than just ghost and theories and unsolved mysteries.

So Ryan tells himself he’s going to ride out whatever it is they’ve fallen into, but he’ll bow out gracefully when the time comes. He can just enjoy the now.

*****

Buzzfeed is sending them to Vegas for Halloween to cover Zombie Dance Bash, a half haunted house, half dance party at some fancy hotel. It’s the hotel’s first year doing it, and who better to cover it than the ghoul boys?

Ryan can feel the excitement thrumming in his veins as they sit in the airport, waiting for their flight. He had spent the night at Shane’s house so they could ride to the airport together--though they didn’t really have to. Their flight was at one in the afternoon, but by now any excuse seems to be good enough.

Shane points his phone camera at him and says, “Look at this eager beaver! Where we going, Ryan?”

“Going to Vegas!”

“That’s right, baby! Hitting up the Zombie Dance Bash at the Moongarden Hotel and Casino! Stay tuned!”

The hotel spared no expense in throwing this party. From what Ryan’s been reading from all of the promotional stuff, it’s going to be all out. The guests first have to walk through a haunted house before reaching the zombie party. Ryan _loves_ Halloween, and he’s just excited that they’re gonna get to go.

He and Shane are in great moods by the time they’re standing at the entrance, waiting to start filming. They’ve been laughing and joking all day, and Ryan feels a little drunk already despite not having had any alcohol yet.

“If you get scared in there, you can hold my hand,” Shane says, leaning in to whisper it conspiratorially at him.

Ryan laughs, feeling butterflies in his stomach. “I won’t be scared. It’s just actors.”

“You say that so confidently now, but once we’re in there--”

“Once we’re in there, I _won’t_ be scared.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Yeah, we’ll fucking see! I think these accusations are just coming up because _you_ are going to get scared and you want me to hold _your_ hand.”

“Oh, you’ll get scared,” Shane says, looking down at him with a smirk on the corner of his mouth. “You _will_ get scared and you _will_ hold my hand.”

“Is that a threat? Guys, did you just hear him threaten me?” he asks, turning to the crew, who are completely ignoring them.

“They can’t help you, Ryan,” Shane says, stepping closer to him, voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I’m gonna get that hand.”

Ryan laughs, shoving Shane away. “I’m filing a complaint with HR when we get back. I’ll replace you on the show.”

“Ryan!” Shane laughs, still standing pretty close. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ll do it. I replaced Brent, and I could replace you too.”

“You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Okay, maybe I wouldn’t,” he admits, breaking easily. God, he always breaks so easy when it comes to Shane. “But don’t push it!”

Ryan doesn’t realize that they’re just grinning at each other, giggling stupidly, until Devon says, “Are you two done done yet? We have to start filming.”

Ryan really is fine through most of the haunted house, thank you very much. Okay, so he falls for a lot of the scare jumps (and so does Shane, thank you very much!), but Shane has a dumb joke for almost every single room they walk through, so he ends up laughing more than anything.

But then towards the end, after being chased by a zombie with a fake chainsaw, they enter Hell. It's hot, real fire shooting up every now and then--which has to be a fire code violation. The walls, the props, even the lights are red, and the actors in the room yell in agony as if they're being tortured.

Ryan feels like his entire soul is cringing.

The cameras are pointed right at them. He kinda wishes they weren't right now, not when he feels like his skin is about to melt off from how creepy this is.

He thinks, _fuck it_ , and reaches out to grab Shane's arm, clutching at it.

Shane grins at him triumphantly, and Ryan just makes a face at him that he hopes fully conveys _shut the fuck up_. Shane just shifts his arm and holds Ryans hand instead.

It's an agonizingly long room, or maybe it just feels like that to Ryan. He feels like it’s never going to fucking end, like they'll just fucking walk around here forever.

The devil jumps out from behind a corner, complete with horns, goatee and a pitchfork. Ryan yells and jumps, though instead of jumping back he just jumps towards Shane. Shane catches him, arms going around his waist to stop him from falling. Ryan’s heart is racing, and Shane laughs, loud and delighted--though he doesn’t let go of his waist.  


“Welcome to the party!” the devil shouts as a door opens behind him, dance music leaking through.

“Thank you, Satan!” Shane yells cheerfully, waving at him as they walk towards the door. Ryan laughs, stepping away from Shane and feeling just a little embarrassed. His heart is still racing.

The party is outside in a large garden, the whole place lit up with glowing orange lights. There are makeup artists painting people’s faces, and he and Shane get in line.

“This is amazing,” Shane says, looking at himself in the mirror. It looks pretty great, even though it was quickly done. “And look at you!”

“We look great!” Ryan agrees.

They pose for the camera, showing off their makeover. They try the drink specials, interview a couple of people, and even dance a little. Ryan feels tipsy and light with happiness. He loves it when they have moments like this, when they’re on the same page and Shane puts a hand on his shoulder as he doubles over laughing at some stupid joke, his laugh so open and warm.

It’s almost 3AM, but the party's still going strong. They’ve already filmed the outro, and the cameras have been put away. Ryan’s eyes feel a little tired, but his spirits are still high.

Two girls come up to them, one of them looking shy and starstruck, the other grinning at them widely.

“Hi, we are such big fans!” the bold one says, yanking her friend closer. “Do you mind if we get a picture?"  


They take pictures and do silly shout outs on their Instagram. Ryan’s still not used to people knowing his name, much less asking for pictures. It’s pretty cool, until he notices that bold girl is leaning a little too close to Shane and looking at him like he’s a prize.

He feels an angry, hurt tug in his heart, and resists the temptation to grab Shane. Shane isn’t his to grab, he tells himself.

“What are you two doing later tonight,”she asks, tone heavy with implications, and holy shit, is this girl _seriously_ doing this?

Ryan eyes quickly go to Shane. Shane, who makes out with random guys in bars, who just might take her up on the offer while Ryan watches helplessly, who could follow her to her room and--

“Oh, we’re just gonna get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. Right, Ry?”

“Y-yeah,” Ryan says, relief flooding oxygen back into his lungs. “Gotta get those REM cycles.”

“What a shame,” the girl says. She digs around in her purse and pulls out a little notepad. She writes her number and gives it to Shane. “Well, in case you change your mind.” She hands him the paper and fucking _winks_.

Her friend gives Ryan an embarrassed, apologetic look as they say goodbye and walk away.

“Her name is Josie,” Shane says, looking down at the paper. “Well that was a new experience.”

Ryan leans over to see. She drew a heart by her name and also included her Instagram handle. “She was feeling your vibe,” he jokes.

“Weird,” is all Shane says, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the trash a few feet away from them. It arches perfectly and goes right in.  


Ryan laughs, happy and so fucking relieved.  


***

Their hotel room is actually pretty nice. They’d come in earlier and dumped their stuff on one of the beds before heading back out, not bother to look around, but now, as he waits for Shane to get out of the shower, he’s really impressed. The view is absolutely fantastic. They’re up pretty high, and he can see the lights from the city glimmering bright. They’ve even got a kitchen area, which they won’t use at all but Ryan still appreciates.  


He sits on the bed that’s empty, turning on the TV.

The only thing that he doesn’t really love is that there are two beds. _Of course_ there are two beds. There’s nothing recording them while they sleep, and it’s not like anyone knows that he and Shane have been spending a couple of nights a week sharing a bed. But now it feels weird to think of Shane sleeping in the same room as him but apart.

When Shane gets out of the shower, Ryan takes his turn. He scrubs the makeup off his face and tries really hard not to think about how Shane was naked in here just a few minutes ago. He should be good at curbin impure thoughts about Shane by now, but no, his brain is an asshole that just keeps offering up fantasy after fantasy.

He turns the water to cold and forces himself to stand under it for ten seconds to cool off.

Once he’s back in clean clothes, he steps back into the room. Shane is sitting on the same bed Ryan had been sitting on. He hadn’t moved any of the bags off the other bed.

“What are you watching?” he asks, going over and sitting next to Shane on the bed.

“Not sure, but this guy has been cheating on his wife and he's about to get caught.”

It's a black and white movie that looks like it’s from the 40’s. A woman is pressing her ear against a door, mouth open in horror. “Oh that rat!” the woman hisses, face scrunching up in anger.  


Shane turns to him, grinning. “She caught him!”

Ryan can't help but smile back at him. He notices a little bit of white makeup right under Shane’s jaw. “Oh you got something here,” he says, and before his brain can stop him, he reaches out and rubs away the spot with his thumb.  


Shane seems a little stunned, both of them momentarily frozen. Ryan can feel his face heat up, embarrassed by the intimacy of the touch.

“Thanks,” Shane says softly, his smile now softer.

“Yeah, no problem.” He turns back to face the screen, wanting this weird moment to just be over already.

He must still be a little buzzed, he thinks, because everything feels a little fuzzy, a little blurry. He can feel the warmth coming off Shane. He could just lean into him. He could turn around and sit on Shane’s lap. He remembers how Shane’s arms felt earlier today, pressing Ryan’s body to his, holding him tight. Ryan could kiss him. God, he wants to feel Shane under him, wants to--

Ryan shakes his head to clear the thoughts away.

“What?” Shane asks,

“No, nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Um, ghosts,” he lies, and Shane laughs.

“Is this place haunted? You should’ve told me! We didn’t even bring a camera.”

Ryan laughs, a little nervous edge to it. “No, you jerk. Shut up.” If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, it’s late,” Shane agrees. “I’m just gonna assume movie lady met another very lovely lady, maybe like a farm girl far away from city life, and they fell in love and were happy forever and ever.”  


Ryan can’t help but snort, “Not in the 40’s.”  


Ryan moves to get up to clear the other bed, but Shane says, “Just stay here. We can share.”

“Um, yeah. Okay,” Ryan says. He doesn’t let himself think about it. His brain has betrayed him enough for tonight, and if Shane isn’t going to be weird about it, then neither is he.

They slips under the covers. Shane turns off the TV, the whole room going dark.

The bed isn’t that small. They’re not even touching. But Shane is still very close, and Ryan thinks bitterly that he should really stop torturing himself like this.

“I think she and farm girl could still find a way to be happy. She deserves it.”

“Okay, movie lady and farm girl live happily ever after and adopt, like, ten babies together. How’s that?”

“What a good life,” Shane says, tone already drowsy with sleep.

_Yeah_ , Ryan thinks. _Maybe that would be_.

***

Ryan is surprised when he wakes up and they’re not wrapped around each other. Shane is sleeping on his stomach, and Ryan had been sleeping facing away from him. It should be a relief, actually. They’re not magnets magically drawn to each other in the night. They can sleep in a bed and have it be normal.  


It doesn’t _bother_ him, exactly. It’s just…. Maybe he feels a little cheated. He has been living for those seconds between waking up and pulling away, when he is pressed against Shane, warm and intimate. When he can pretend, just for those few seconds, that maybe he can keep this.

He rolls his eyes at himself and thinks, _Don’t be so pathetic_.

They eat breakfast at the hotel, everyone still a little groggy and tired. There’s not much time to do anything else before they’re back at the airport.

He sits next to Shane on the plane, eyes growing tired and heavy. He doesn’t let himself overthink it, just rests his head on Shane’s shoulder. Shane doesn’t say anything, and Ryan feels a little better, a little bit more soothed.

*****

Ryan has always liked Shane’s personality. He’s always been funny and goofy and just fucking _weird_ , in a way that Ryan had always been too self conscious to be until meeting him. They’d been good friends for a long time, but something is different now. He wouldn’t have called Shane his best friend two years ago--hell, maybe not even at the beginning of the year either.

Shane hadn’t been his first pick to do the show. They’d only really hung out in groups. Ryan used to feel a little weird spending time alone with him, a little nervous. It’s easier to understand in retrospect, how those strange feelings had been attraction that he’d mislabeled.

Shane just always seems so confident, so sure of himself. He had none of the nervousness that Ryan often carries, and that had made Ryan even more nervous around him.

But now it feels as though they’ve become RyanAndShane, an inseparable unit.

If people need to find Shane they come to Ryan first, which, okay, that might be fair since Ryan does tend to know where Shane is most of the time. But it’s other things too, like always inviting them out together and having them host things together. People automatically assume they will sit together, or they will ask, “Where’s Shane?” if Ryan shows up alone.

Which is maybe why it shouldn’t be surprising when he’s going over footage with TJ, and TJ suddenly says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, only tearing his eyes away from the screen when TJ stays quiet. TJ looks hesitant. “Is everything okay?” Ryan asks, a sudden pang of anxiety hitting his chest, mind rushing to the worst conclusions.

“Are you and Shane…. I don’t know how to put this delicately. Are you two fucking?”

Ryan feels his eyes go wide, a sudden instinctual fear taking over. “No!”

TJ narrows his eyes at him, looking suspicious. “Then what are you guys doing?”

“ _What_? What do you mean what are we doing?”

“You guys just seem so….together. Are you two really not fucking? I won’t get mad if you are.”

“No, we’re--wait, what do you mean you won’t be mad? Mad about what?” Ryan can feel himself getting defensive, shoulders tightening and his brain yelling at him to run and get the hell out of there.

“I mean, two co-hosts dating or fooling around or whatever is just never a good idea. Breakups are always nasty.”

Ryan knows that. God, of course he fucking knows that, which is exactly why he’s saving everyone the trouble and keeping his stupid goddamn feelings to himself. He knows he can’t be mad at TJ, knows that TJ is _right_ , but it still stings like a bitch.

“Well you have nothing to worry about,” he says, turning back to the screen. “We’re just friends.”

“Okay, just checking” TJ say, thankfully dropping the subject even if it doesn’t really sound like he’s buying it.

But what makes it worse is that Ryan knows he’s probably so fucking obvious, no matter how much he tries to hide it. He can see it when he edits the show, can see the way his eyes are glued to Shane, the way he can’t help but make a fool of himself around him. He’s painfully aware, _thanks_. He had just hoped that maybe no one else would notice.

When he gets home that night in a bitter mood, he can’t help but feel annoyed all over again at how still and silent his apartment is. This is pathetic. Shane isn’t his. He knows that.

It doesn’t matter that a handful of clothes in his laundry basket is Shane’s. It doesn’t matter that there’s two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Shane is going to inevitably meet someone and fall in love, and Ryan won’t even be able to handle third wheeling them around like he did when Shane was with Sara.

God, that seems so long ago. Back when Ryan just averted his eyes whenever they kissed, and it was easy to pretend he didn’t feel jealous. But now… How could he possibly survive watching Shane give his heart to someone else? He’s going to have to just stand there and smile and pretend to be happy for him. Hell, Ryan is probably going to have to go to his wedding. He might even be one of the groomsmen. And after the wedding, Ryan will go home by himself, drown in his own heartache, and then probably die alone.

He goes to sit on the couch and practices being miserably alone.

*****

Ryan opens his eyes slowly, blinking awake. His first thought is that Shane's alarm hasn't even gone off yet. His second, much more panicked thought is, _oh god, Shane has a boner._

Shane is glued to Ryan’s back, an arm around Ryan’s waist locking him in place. Ryan can hear from Shane’s soft breathing that he’s still asleep.

This is not good.

Except that his traitorous body seems to think that this is _very_ good, and a second problem is quickly developing. Ryan feels himself blush furiously, and oh god, he has to think quickly. A frantic dash to the bathroom would only wake Shane up, and Ryan very much doubts that his frantic prayer for the ground to open up and swallow him will be answered. He could… He could turn around and wake Shane up and offer to take care of their situations. They’re already pressed so close together. God, if Ryan could just touch Shane, if he could just kiss him and make it so good for him-- _no_!  


_Goddamnit, now is not the fucking time_ , he thinks angrily to himself.

Okay, okay, maybe just slowly moving away.

Ryan slowly, _painfully_ slow, inch by inch, lifts Shane’s arm. He holds his breath as he carefully moves away, as he gently lays Shane’s arm back down.

Shane keeps breathing evenly, still asleep.

_Thank god_ , he thinks, and manages to get up from the bed. He’s halfway across the room when Shane’s alarm goes off. Ryan flinches, suddenly frozen, his brain quickly debating the pros and cons of just fucking covering his crotch with his hands.  


He hears the now familiar groan of Shane being dragged out of dream land and back into the real world.

_Go, go, go, go_ , his brain tells him, and Ryan quickly keeps walking towards the bedroom door, saying, “I’ll go ahead and feed Obi.” He winces at how high his voice sounds.  


Obi happily follows him out the room, meowing happily as they head to the kitchen.

After feeding him quickly, Ryan speed walks to the bathroom to make sure he gets there before Shane. This is not the most humiliating moment of his life, he tells himself, but after some quick calculations he thinks that this might still be in the top five.

He allows himself to properly freak out for a good solid minute and then splashes cold water on his face. That helps a little. He reminds himself that hey, morning wood is very common and it has absolutely nothing to do with Ryan being here. It’s just an awkward thing that happens when you spend the night with your platonic guy friend.

When he feels like he can safely come out of the bathroom, he heads back to the bedroom where Shane is standing by the bed and holding a towel at a very convenient height.

“Hey,” Shane says, though he’s not really making eye contact.

That is more than fine with Ryan.  


“Hey,” he says back, trying to act as normal as possible.

“I’m just gonna shower real quick and then we can go.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Cool.” Shane takes a step forward and Ryan quickly scurries out of the way so that Shane can walk out of the room.  


When he hears the bathroom door close, Ryan lets his hands come up over his face and suppresses the urge to groan out loud. God, it’s going to be so fucking weird.

This is what he gets for fucking doing this when he damn well knows he shouldn’t. “Maybe this’ll be funny one day,” he mutters to himself bitterly.

He gets dressed and tries very hard not to think about what Shane could be doing in the shower.

***

Ryan considers telling Shane to just drop him off at his house instead of riding to work together like usual, but by now Shane would probably find that weird and then he’ll definitely know that Ryan knows and then things would be worse. Although it’s hard to imagine something worse than this, them just sitting silently in the car, both probably thinking about Shane’s dick.  


So he stays quiet, and when they enter Ryan’s apartment, Shane goes to sit on the couch like usual, waiting for Ryan to get ready.

Ryan thinks his brain might be broken. No matter how hard he tries he can’t think of anything else, can’t stop replaying in his head the feeling of Shane pressed against him, the way it made Ryan feel.  


He’s surprised when he comes out of his room and Shane says, “You look very cute today, Ryan.”  


Ryan frowns, looking down at his regular jeans and gray shirt. “Thanks?” It comes out more of a question than he means to.  


Shane has that strange smile on his face, that familiar one he gets when he’s poking fun at him. “You’re welcome,” is all he says.

“Okay, you big weirdo. Let’s go before we’re late.”  


“Oh, I see. I give you a nice little compliment to brighten your day, and in return I get called names?” Shane stands from the couch, giving him a disappointed look and shaking his head. “Who raised you?”

Ryan watches, his mouth open as his brain tries to catch up, as Shane calmly and smoothly walks towards the front door. “You--you do look nice! I mean, no, wait--”

“It’s too late now,” Shane calls over his shoulder, opening the door.  


“Fuck you,” Ryan says, breaking into giggles, unable to stop himself. “I take it back, then. You look like shit.”  


Shane laughs loudly, and all Ryan can do is try not to trip over himself as he follows him out the door.  


It’s a little easier after that.

The rest of the day goes by fine, though Ryan still can’t help but look at Shane and feel a desperate sense of yearning, wanting, _wishing_. He barely gets any work done.  


He concentrates so hard on trying not to think about it that it’s almost as if he can’t focus on anything else. It’s almost the end of the workday when Shane says, “Should we grab food before Kelsey’s party or do you think there’ll be proper food there?”

“What?” Ryan says, because he knows Shane mouth was moving but he doesn’t feel like any of it made sense. “What party?”

“Kelsey’s party? It’s her birthday? You literally signed the office birthday card.”

“Oh,” he says frowning, only vaguely remembering a card being handed to him to sign. “Fuck, I didn’t get her a present.”

“You’re an awful friend, but luckily I’m a great friend. I already put your name down on my present.”

“Thanks,” Ryan says, wanting to ask, _So we’re giving people joint presents now_? Instead he asks, “What did we get her?”

“A big bottle of Tennessee whiskey because that girl drinks like a monster.”

Ryan laughs, assuming Shane is joking, but several hours later he finds himself on Kelsey’s couch, leaning heavily on Shane, and oh Jesus, he really regrets trying to keep up with her.

Kelsey seems barely tipsy, is the thing, but Ryan thinks he might black out.

“You were right,” he tells Shane, meaning to only get slightly closer to him to whisper it, but he accidentally lets his whole body weight fall on Shane and he’s not that sure about the volume of his voice.

“Yes I was,” Shane says confidently, before three seconds later asking, “Wait, what was I right about?”

Ryan laughs. “You’re drunk.”

“ _You’re_ drunk. And I’m right.”

“Kelsey is a monster.”

“I said that?” Shane says, looking very horrified at himself.

Ryan can’t hold his giggles in. God, he’s so fucking wasted. “A party monster,” he manages between giggles. Shane laughs too, and soon they’re clutching each other, eyes tearing up.

They’re one of the last people to leave. They switched to soda and water about an hour ago, but they’re still pretty drunk.

They stand outside on Kelsey’s lawn waiting for their Uber. They lean against each other for balance, still giggling over jokes that are in no way funny by now.

Standing like this with Shane, their bodies aligned and connected, he has a foggy recollection about what happened this morning. His breath hitches, but his body is too lazy to recoil or freak out. He feels happy and so fucking _good_ , and he’s with Shane and that’s all that matters.

He looks up at Shane, blinking slightly in surprise when he realizes that Shane is actually staring at him. “What?” he asks.

“I’m just glad I’m here,” Shane says, voice low and honest.

“Me too.”

This feels intimate, so cut off from the rest of everything. _We’re so close_ , Ryan thinks. Ryan’s hanging onto Shane’s arm.

“Do you like me more than Brent?”  


“Brent?” Ryan asks, suddenly confused because what does Brent have to do with anything?  


“Yeah. For the show. Do I do a better job?”  


“You do a great job,” Ryan says, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Shane needs to know. Shane should definitely know at least a fraction of how Ryan feels. If this is even a question then he needs to know. “I like you more than anyone else,” he says, before he can overthink it, before he can stop himself.  


Shane smiles wide, a proper grin. Ryan thinks that it was worth it, whatever that little bit of honesty cost him or will cost him--it was worth it to see Shane smile like that. The moon and streetlights give Shane a glow that Ryan hopes desperately will stick in his mind.  


Shane opens his mouth to say something, gets to, “I think--” when their Uber gets there and they pull apart.  


They get in the back seat, heading to Ryan’s house since it’s closer. Ryan feels a bit off kilter. _It’s been a strange day_ , he thinks, and then he feels Shane tug at his hand. Turning to look at him, he realizes that Shane is just holding his hand, their fingers intertwined and resting in the middle seat between them.

Ryan blinks, a part of his brain still unsure if this is real, if Shane is _really_ holding his hand, but it is. Shane is staring ahead, but when Ryan squeezes his hand, Shane squeezes back. The driver is listening to some monotone podcast, not bothering to talk to them, which _thank god_. Ryan doubts he’s even capable of putting words in the correct order right now. His brain feels too full, too chaotic and confused. It must be getting to Shane too.  


When they get to Ryan’s house, Ryan has trouble actually getting the key to go into the lock. He feels too aware of Shane behind him.  


“Keys are dumb,” he mumbles to himself, and is surprised when Shane laughs behind him, even closer than what Ryan had thought.  


Finally entering through the door and into the kitchen, Ryan turns around to face Shane and grins when he realizes that there’s a few small pieces of confetti in his hair, now visible in proper lighting. “You’ve got confetti in your hair.”

“What?” Shane asks, eyes coming up to meet Ryan’s.

“Here, just let me,” he say and reaches up to brush it off, Shane bending his knees a bit.

Shane catches his wrist as he’s pulling his hand back. “Ryan,” he says, staring at him.

Ryan’s brain can’t focus. He feels the warmth of Shane’s hand on his wrist, the same one that had been holding his hand earlier in the car. Shane’s looking at him, gaze intense and demanding, and Ryan doesn’t know what’s going on.  


Shane loosens his grip, lets his hand trail down until they’re holding hands again.  


There’s a warning bell going off in Ryan’s brain telling him to get ready, to decide what he’s going to do and decide quickly, but the message gets lost traveling through the disbelief that this is even really happening.  


But then Shane’s free hand is on Ryan’s waist, and he’s walking him back a few steps until Ryan’s back is against a wall, pinned. _Like his stupid butterfly_ , Ryan thinks drunkenly. He’s holding his breath, he realizes, only able to look up at Shane.  


“Ryan,” Shane says again, before leaning down to kiss him.

And Ryan still isn’t sure whether he’s fallen into some sort of false reality or if he fell asleep holding Shane’s hand in the cab, but he doesn’t fucking care. He kisses Shane back. He kisses him, suddenly desperate for Shane to know that Ryan really does likes him more than he’s ever liked anyone, that Ryan can’t imagine not having him, that he can’t believe that Shane is here.  


There’s an urgent _want_ in his stomach, and he runs his free hand up Shane’s back, pulls him closer. This is all he’s wanted, god, for months, maybe years. He’s wanted this so much, and he can’t believe that Shane is real and solid pressed against him.  


He can’t help but moan when Shane’s tongue is suddenly in his mouth, a delicious shiver going up his spine. God yes, finally. He can feel his blood burning away any rational thought, his heart racing. All he wants is for Shane to press closer, a desire for more.  


All that matters is that Shane is here. Shane’s hand is now under his shirt, and Ryan feels so happy and--

And then Shane pulls back, taking two quick steps, creating distance between them. Ryan opens his eyes, surprised.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Shane says, but that doesn’t make any sense. “I’m drunk. We’re too drunk.”

Ryan still doesn’t quite understand, his brain still trying to figure out what happened just a few seconds ago. It was a mistake?

“What just happened?” he asks, desperately hoping that Shane will step closer, that Shane can explain.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Shane says, sounding dismayed.

Whatever hopeful light had been ignited in Ryan suddenly vanishes, and it all clicks into place. They’re just drunk. And Shane didn’t mean to kiss him.

“No. I get it,” Ryan says, eyes on anything but Shane, feeling sick. Maybe he’s about to puke. God, he almost hopes that’s the problem, that he can just get out whatever disgusting feeling has taken over his entire body.

“I’m sorry,” Shane says again. “I fucked it up.”

“It’s fine.”

“Way to ruin it, right?” Shane jokes, laughing weakly, but Ryan’s heart can’t take this.  “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”  


“It’s fine,” Ryan says again quickly, making a dismissive hand motion. Of course. There was no other way for things to end other than this. He desperately needs Shane to stop talking. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

Shane seems sheepish and unsure of himself, two things that Ryan hardly ever sees coming from him. And to see him like this now, from the mistake of kissing him….

Ryan feels like his body has been turned inside out, wrong and painful. Whatever happiness he had been feeling has twisted itself into gut wrenching despair. He curses himself for bringing Shane here. If they were at Shane’s he could have just leave, but how can he kick Shane out without this being weird?

God, it’s going to be so fucking weird. But he never ever thought that Shane would be the one to ruin this, to ruin _them_. He never thought Shane would use him, to be the sort that gives in to impulses. It stings like hell, and anger swells up in Ryan’s chest to try and even out the misery.

Ryan is the one that’s in love here. Shane doesn’t want him, so why the fuck would he do this?

Ryan goes into the bathroom and leans against the door. There’s a painful lump in his throat that he keeps trying to swallow down. He wishes he wasn’t so drunk.

He washes his face with cold water, hating how hot his tears feel around his eyes as he desperately tries to get them not to spill.

Now is not the time. Right now he has to go back out there and figure out how the fuck he is going to piece his heart back together, how he is going to stomach the rest of their careers trying to forget this night.

Shane keeps looking at him apologetically, and Ryan can’t stand it. He considers sleeping on the couch or even pretending to be sick sleeping next to the toilet. But instead he just avoids looking at Shane and gathers up whatever courage is buried deep down, the kind he pulls out when Shane talks him into getting put in dark, haunted closets. He gets in bed with the guy he’s desperate in love with and who just rejected him.

Ryan fights the urge to put as much distance between them as humanly possible. Normal, he’s gotta act as normal as possible. _For the sake of the show_ , he keeps telling himself. But then Shane turns to him, putting an arm around him so that he’s practically hugging him, his face pushed into Ryan’s neck.

They don’t say anything.

The lump in his throat is back, threatening to choke him. Ryan feels like he’s being swallowed slowly by a pit of misery, like his heart is leaking acid. This is the last time, he realizes. He knew this would end badly, knew that this was dangerous.

He wishes again that he wasn’t so drunk, that his brain could focus. He wants to remember this. He wants to remember how their bodies fit together, how they already know how to settle into one another. It’ll be a painful memory, he knows that, but Ryan still doesn’t want to forget.

He falls asleep who knows how much later, exhausted and hazy.

***

Ryan feels like shit the next morning. The massive headache, at least, gives him three solid minutes before he remembers what happened yesterday.

Shane kissed him. Shane kissed him and then immediately regretted it.

And then Ryan feels like crawling into a grave.

Feeling Ryan stir, Shane wakes up. He groans into the pillow and says, “Kelsey is inhuman. Either that or she’s dead.”

“Right now I wish I was dead,” Ryan says, holding his head. “I need pain meds.”

“Bring me some, please,” Shane says, pulling Ryan’s covers over his head.

Ryan makes a general “Hmmm” noise, not able to speak again. He gets them both glasses of water and takes the whole Tylenol bottle back with him to the bedroom.

There’s something about the morning light that makes Ryan feel like maybe they will be okay. Shane isn’t acting any weirder than normal, at least. Maybe they can pretend like it never happen, and while Ryan is pretty sure that he’ll never be able to feel any sort of joy or happiness ever again, at least they won’t lose the show.

They sit on Ryan’s bed for what feels like an eternity but is probably only twenty minutes. Ryan is starting to think that maybe Shane just fell back asleep, but then Shane says, “Obi’s probably starving.”

“Yeah,” is all Ryan can manage.

Shane gets up, groaning softly at each movement. He stops at the doorway, turning back. Seemingly confused, he says, “Come on, slowpoke. We can grab coffee on the way.”

Ryan shakes his head, despite the movement sending throbbing pain to his eyes. “I’ll just stay here and fall into a coma.”

Shane is quiet for a minute, and Ryan wishes he would just fucking go. “Okay,” he finally says. “Text me when you wake back up.”

Ryan makes another noncommittal sound that Shane must take for a yes, because he goes.

He breathes a giant sigh as soon as he hears the front door close.

_Well, at least I learned my lesson_ , Ryan thinks bitterly. He should consider himself lucky, really. It could’ve been much worse than a kiss. He’d been right to build that pillow fort between them. He’d been right to feel so skittish about any type of physical intimacy.  


So no more. It’s time to put on his big boy pants and put a stop to whatever...whatever _this_ is. Shane being bored, Ryan desperately wanting his attention, whatever weird dependency they’ve developed because of it.

He spends the rest of the afternoon letting himself wallow in misery. Shane texts him in the early afternoon: _Up from the coma yet? Wanna come over?_

Ryan replies: _Still in that coma_

Ryan downloads a dating app and sends a quick prayer that maybe, just maybe, he might  actually be able to get over Shane Madej one day.

*****

There’s something very strange about one of your worst nightmares coming true. At least, Ryan thinks, he wasn’t possed by a demon or torn limb from limb by a bear. Sure his heart was torn out and stomped on, but the ache in his chest dulls into a quiet, almost ignorable sadness.  


He went on a date the next day with a pretty cute girl named Jenny. Shane texted him to ask if he wanted to watch the game at his house, but Ryan just replied back that he was skipping the game that night. Then on Monday he has a lunch date with Katie.  


Shane brings him coffee Monday morning. Ryan smiles and says thanks, and even though he still can’t quite look at Shane in the eye, he’s still proud of himself for managing to be a grown up about this.

So Shane doesn’t want him--big deal. Ryan already knew that, deep down. Better that any sort of hope gets drowned now rather than later. Better that Ryan make peace with the fact now than to pine pathetically for decades.  


Shane keeps trying to pull him into conversations, but Ryan can only put in so much effort. The conversations die maybe ten sentences in.

Katie is also nice.

And so are Grant and Emma. They’re not terrible dates, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly found anyone that he’d go on a second date with. But hey, at least he’s trying. He feels like he’s on the fucking offense for once.  


It’s Thursday when Shane comes over to his desk, standing next to him until Ryan pulls off his headphones and looks up at him. “Hey,” Ryan says, ignoring that awful feeling he gets in his stomach whenever Shane stands too close.  


They haven’t spent much time together since last Friday, and no time at all outside of work.

Shane has a look of determination on his face, though the air about him seems nervous. “Hey. So, listen, do you wanna come over tonight? We could order pizza. Watch a movie.”

“Um, I can’t tonight,” Ryan says, hoping that Shane won’t ask for any details. So far Ryan’s been able to get away with vague answers and half truths, but Ryan can tell his luck is running out as Shane frowns, now looking properly worried.  


“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“No,” Ryan says, and he’s surprised when he realizes that’s the honest answer. “I’m really not. I’m just busy.”

“With what?”

“I’m going out.”

“On a Thursday?” Shane asks suspiciously.

“Yeah, I’ve got Thursday night plans. I’m young,” he jokes, already feeling it fall flat. “I can make weekday plans.”

Shane makes a confused, frustrated face at him. “Seriously, Ryan, what’s going on? What’s with these secret plans and avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I just--” Ryan sighs and figures he might as well just say it. He can feel his face heating up with embarrassment. “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ve been giving the whole dating thing a shot, and it’s just taken up a lot of time.”

“You’re….dating?” Shane says, in a tone that makes Ryan look at him directly for what feels like the first time in years. Ryan can’t quite decipher the look on his face. “Who are you going out with?”

Ryan shrugs. “Just a guy this stupid app matched me with. I don’t know,” he says. God, this feels humiliating. “It’s dumb, but I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Well that’s great,” Shane says, voice angry and upset now. “I hope you have a real good time, pal.” He storms off before Ryan can say anything.

Shane doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the day and very obviously leaves the room whenever Ryan enters. Ryan wants to shout after him, _Sorry my life can’t revolve around you forever!_ , but he’s decided to be the mature one here and so he stays quiet.

Devon comes up to him near the end of the day and asks, “Hey, what’s up with Shane?”

Ryan wants to groan. He’s not Shane’s babysitter, and honestly, only God himself knows the answer to that question. “I have no idea.”

“Did you do something?”

“No! I literally didn’t do anything. He’s just acting all weird! He thinks I’m ignoring him or something, but I’m _not_.”

“Well he seems pretty upset. You should probably talk to him.”

“He’ll get over it,” Ryan says, and he prays that that’s true.

Devon gives him a look like he’s fucking things up but doesn’t say anything. Ryan’s grateful for that, at least.

***

Mateo is nice. He’s a little shorter than Ryan by maybe an inch or two, and Ryan can’t help but think about optical illusions and what hanging out with a bigfoot all the fucking time has done to his sense of height.

His parents are from Mexico City and since he doesn’t watch the show, Ryan gets to talk about his visit to the Island of the Dolls without having to mention Shane. That had been a problem with Emma. She had been a fan and had even asked about Shane. It’d been too weird, and Ryan had cut that one short.  


But Mateo has a nice laugh, and Ryan feels like he’s actually enjoying himself.  


“I would’ve watched more Buzzfeed stuff if I’d known you were in them,” he says, giving Ryan a flirtatious smile.  


“I embarrass myself in a lot of them. Not sure you would’ve still gone out with me if you saw them.”  


Mateo laughs and assures him that that wouldn’t have changed anything, but Ryan is having trouble concentrating because he’s pretty sure he just saw Shane.  


His stomach drops as he gets his eyes to focus, and yup, there he is several tables away in the crowded restaurant.  


“Is everything okay?” Mateo asks, turning to try and see what Ryan is looking at.  


“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine--god, I’m _so_ sorry,” Ryan says, forcing out a laugh and trying not to feel so flustered. “Uh, will you excuse me? I think I just saw my friend and--well, long story, um. Just one second.”

Ryan gets up, leaving Mateo looking very confused. This is probably a coincidence, one of those terribly unfunny gags the universe likes to pull, but Ryan would still like to know.

He’s so focused on Shane that it’s only when he gets to the table that he even notices that Jen is sitting there too. Jen looks up at him, but Shane very stubbornly does not, focusing very intentently on his menu instead.

“Well this is a funny coincidence,” Ryan says.

“Hey, Ryan,” Jen says, but she looks very uncomfortable.

Shane doesn’t say anything.

Jen looks at Ryan with a grimace before turning back to Shane. “Wanna tell Ryan what we’re doing here, Shane?”

Shane puts down his menu and looks up at Ryan. “I’m having dinner with Jen. We’re catching up, right Jen?”  


Jen visibly sags and lets out a small frustrated groan. “Seriously?” she says.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Ryan asks.

“Why don’t you go back to your date?” Shane asks, and the angry tone bites at Ryan. “I’m sure you two are having a grand ol’ time.”

What the hell does Shane have to be angry about? Is this seriously just because Ryan isn’t rolling over and being there whenever Shane snaps his fingers?

“I guess I will,” he spits back, crossing his arms.

“Okay, seriously, you’re both being idiots,” Jen says. “ _Talk_ to each other. Learn to communicate! Like real human people!”

“I’m gonna go and finish my date, and Shane can go fuck himself.”  


“Great, that’s real nice, Ryan. Thanks.”

Ryan just turns and goes back to his table, feeling absolutely fucking terrible. Mateo looks very concerned, and Ryan assures him that no, no, everything is fine. Just some weird stuff with his friend, and no, really, everything's fine.

Shane and Jen leave soon after. Jen makes eye contact with him, trying to communicate some indecipherable message through just her eyeballs.

Ryan is determined to finish this date with this really nice guy, but any excitement he had at the beginning is gone. All his brain can think about is what the fuck is Shane’s deal? Why is he being so damn weird and how dare just show up here? Did Shane seriously come here just to ruin Ryan’s night?  


“I get the feeling this isn’t gonna work out,” Mateo says around fifteen minutes later, snapping Ryan out of his thoughts.  


Ryan sighs. “I’m sorry. It’s that obvious, huh?”  


“Do you wanna talk about it?”  


“It’s...complicated.”

Mateo shrugs. “What isn’t? You can tell me. Here, let’s order ice cream. That always makes me feel better.”

The ice cream comes covered in some sort of chocolate sauce, and Mateo is a really good listener. Ryan hasn’t told anyone about this, has kept it all in his head for so fucking long. It all comes out jumbled, and he keeps going off on different tangents. Mateo lets out an sympathetic, “Oh, fucking harsh,” when he gets to the bit about Shane calling their kiss a mistake, and as he loops back around to the present, Mateo just shakes his head and says, “Sounds like you two are in love but just being dumb about it.”  


“I’m pretty sure I’m the only idiot in love here.”  


“But then why would he come here tonight?”

Ryan shrugs, scraping his now empty bowl and wishing more ice cream would magically appear. “Trust me--the way his brain works is an enigma. If you watched the show we could get into his obsession with writing food fan fiction, but you’re just gonna have to believe me when I say that there’s no way he’s in love with me.”  


Just saying the words out loud hurts.

“I don’t know. You’re pretty cute. He likes to spend time with you. Kissing you seems like a promising piece of evidence, even if he did take it back.”

The thought stays with Ryan, even after he and Mateo part ways. Mateo makes him promise to still message him with any updates (“I just enjoy the drama”) though they both agree a second date probably wouldn’t be good.  


When he gets home, he seriously considers texting Shane, but he doesn’t know what he would say. Could Mateo be right? Is Shane seriously jealous? But why would he be?

He feels like his brain is about to leak out of his ears. It’s all too much, and he decides to go to sleep instead. This is the longest he’s gone without sharing a bed with Shane since they started this whole thing, he realizes as he gets under the covers. It makes his heart pang with sadness. He tosses and turns all night, desperately hoping the answer will present itself magically in the morning.  


He wakes up in a sour mood the next day.

Shane is avoiding him. He catches glimpses of him around the office, always from the corner of his eye, or only spotting traces of him here and there. “Like a fucking cryptid,” he mumbles to himself angrily.

He can’t find Shane anywhere, so he goes to find Jen. The second she sees him walking towards her, she sighs and says, “I’m guessing you two didn’t talk.”

“No. He’s avoiding me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Figures. Boys are so stupid.”

“What’s going on?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out so pathetic, like he’s a scared and confused puppy that suddenly didn’t get adopted, but seriously, _what is going on_?

“I don’t wanna get involved. Shane just texted me yesterday, begging me to go to dinner and then it turns out that it’s actually a whole _thing_ or whatever. Just--you gotta talk to him.”  


“I’m trying, but I can’t fucking find him!”  


“The man’s a giant, I’m sure you can catch him. He’s not a ghost, Ryan.”  


“I cannot believe you’re making ghost jokes at a time like this,” he says, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose while Jen laughs.  


“Okay, yeah, sorry. Not the time. But do go find him.”

So Ryan tries. He really does. He circles the damn office multiple times, determined to fix things. This can’t be how everything ends between them. When he can’t find him, he pulls out his phone and stares at it for what feels like hours trying to figure out just what the hell to write.

What happened last night?

Tell me what’s wrong so we can fix this.  


Why are you being such a fucking asshole to me when all you did was break my heart?  


He doesn’t dare send any of those. He just sends: _Where are you? Text me back._

But Shane doesn’t.

Something painful grabs hold of his heart, and he feels a little sick.

When Ryan finally returns to his desk, he’s surprised to suddenly see Shane sitting at his own desk. He’s frowning at the screen, headphones on, and Ryan blinks a couple of times just to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.  


_Now or never_ , he thinks, taking a deep breath.

“Hey,” he says as he walks up to Shane.

Shane looks up at him, frowning. “Yeah?”

Ryan frowns back at him, crossing his arms. “I’ve been looking for you.”  


“And here I am,” Shane says and offers up nothing else.  


Ryan seriously feels like he’s about to have a melt down.  


“Look, I just want to make sure we’re okay.”  


“Yeah, we’re great.” His tone clearly indicates that they are anything but. “How was your date? He seemed nice.” Shane looks mad now, voice dripping with sarcasm, and Ryan feels himself bristle.  


“Yeah, he was,” he bites back, stopping himself from adding _until you ruined it_.  


“That’s great,” Shane says, turning back to look at his computer. “Hope you guys are very happy together.”

“Did I do something wrong? Am I not allowed to date?” Ryan feels pathetic asking.  


Shane stands up and looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Date whoever you want! What the fuck do I care?” He walks away before Ryan can say anything.  


They avoid each other the rest of the day.  


***

They’ve never had a fight before--not a real one. Not one where they say hurtful things to each other and then don’t talk at all.

Ryan walks around his apartment, trying to gather up the courage for what he knows he has to do. They have to fix this. They’re scheduled to film an episode on the Lake Bodom murders next week, and Ryan doesn’t know what he would do if Shane just quit the show. They have to work through this.  


It’s dark outside already by the time he finally thinks _fuck it_ and grabs his keys.  


If Shane doesn’t want to be his friend anymore, then fine. Ryan would just have to deal with that. But the thought of ending the show, just when it’s finally getting big, just when they might actually be onto something… Ryan could never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try.  


Taking a deep breath, Ryan knocks on Shane’s door.  


He’s startled when it suddenly opens, and Shane is standing there, arms crossed. “What?” Shane asks, and Ryan wishes that this was at least a little bit easier.  


“We need to talk,” Ryan says and walks past Shane into his house.  


Shane lets him, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.  


Obi runs towards him and nuzzles against his legs, purring. Ryan reaches down to pet him, tells him, “Hey, boy. Missed you too.”  


He stands back up and looks at Shane.  


Shane looks right back at him.  


“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Ryan asks.

Shane visibly bristles, holding himself defensively again, like he’s about to get hurt. “I don’t know, Ryan. You tell me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no idea what’s going on!”

“Oh okay,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Look, I get it if you didn’t want to be with me, but it was shitty of you to string me along.”

Ryan’s mouth drops open. String _him_ along? “ _What_?” he finally manages.

“I thought we were heading somewhere. But now you’re dating some guy? I thought it was because _I_ was a guy that we were taking things so slow, but no, apparently--”

“What?” Ryan repeats again, because his brain must be malfunctioning. “You thought that _we…_?”  


“What else was I supposed to think? I don’t go around kissing my friends! I thought you felt the same way, but I guess I was wrong.”

“No,” Ryans says, taking a step closer to Shane. “Then why the hell did you say that kissing me was a mistake?

Shane frowns at him, looking just as confused as Ryan feels. “I didn’t say that. No, I was just--I didn’t want our first kiss to be when we were drunk.”

Ryan blinks once, twice. He tries to wrap his head around this new reality he has suddenly stepped into. A world where Shane Madej likes him back.

Ryan says, “You never said anything!”

“ _You_ didn’t say anything!”

Ryan starts to laugh, beginning with nervous giggles before quickly going into a loud and slightly mad cackle.

Shane is frowning at him, concerned, like Ryan is seriously going crazy. And maybe he is.

“I’m an idiot,” Ryan says. “ _You’re_ an idiot! God, did you seriously stalk me on a date? Were you seriously jealous?”

“It can hardly be considered stalking. You should really be more careful about what you post on Instagram.”

Ryan laughs again, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. “Come here, you absolute fucking moron.”

Shane says, “I don’t think I like being called all of these mean names,” but he comes easily when Ryan grabs him by his shirt and pulls him in.

“Idiots, both of us,” he mumbles and then leans up to kiss Shane. Shane leans down, wrapping his arms around Ryan.

The height difference is new, having to tip his head up and lean forward on his tippy toes. They’re not drunk. He’s fully and wonderfully aware of how solid Shane feels against him. Ryan wraps his arms around Shane’s neck and holds on.  


For once in his life he doesn’t care what anyone else is going to think or say about this, doesn’t care if it’s a good idea or not. All that matters is that Shane feels this too, this pull between them, and that Ryan won’t have to sleep alone anymore.

**Epilogue**

Shane is just happy that Obi likes his new step-dad.  


As they move in all of Ryan’s stuff into Shane’s house, Obi keeps sniffing at all the new boxes. Ryan’s jerseys get their own space in the hallway closet because otherwise both of their stuff wouldn’t fit. Everything in the house now looks a little mismatched, with different sets of plates and towels and mugs, but Shane can’t remember ever feeling more at home.

He likes knowing that their lives are intertwined now, that Ryan is here to stay.

He keeps sneaking looks at Ryan as they carry stuff in, as Ryan loudly declares where he’s gonna put his stuff and what things he demands they get rid of. (Ryan: “I can’t believe you bought a Bulls jersey just to spite me.”

Shane: “I’m a Lauri-head! That’s my boy. If I wear it when he plays he grows taller.”

Ryan: “I’m burning it.”)

He’s always liked having Ryan around, but ever since their relationship evolved, having Ryan close feels vital. Being around Ryan feels like recharging, like his heart and mind can finally find a place to rest. It feels right to wake up and have Ryan next to him. It feels right to make them both coffee in the morning, to go grocery shopping together, to sometimes sneak out of the office and make out in the parking lot like teenagers.  


Obi had been very upset when Ryan had been off dating other people. He kept meowing at close doors as if maybe Ryan could be hiding behind them. He’d been restless and grouchy, and Shane had felt like everything was falling apart.  


Shane had thought he’d pushed Ryan into something he wasn’t quite ready for, had feared that he’d ruined it all by wanting too much too fast. He’d had a plan set up. He wanted to find the perfect moment for them to make it official, to talk about cementing their new relationship. But then standing in Ryan’s kitchen, with Ryan looking at him like that, so warm and loving… Shane is only human.

He had assumed they would fix it, that they would talk about it and get things back on course. But then when it was clear that Ryan was avoiding him, when Ryan told him about going on a date, it had been like a punch to the throat.  

Shane has always considered himself to be a rational person, and he’s not one to hatch schemes. But the thought of Ryan dating someone else made him feel crazy. He had dragged Jen to dinner to check out his competition, but staring at the reality of it had made Shane feel sick with jealousy. Even thinking about it now made Shane feel like he was looking down from the top of a cliff, down into some miserable end that he surely would’ve never survived.

But that doesn't matter now because Ryan is here, smiling at him, laughing at his stupid jokes. Ryan _lives_ here. This is their home. And Shanes gets to grab him by the hips and pull him into a kiss in their bedroom.

Shane loves Ryan so much that he doesn't even care that Ryan actually, _seriously_ brought sage to burn and holy water to sprinkle in the corners of the house.

“We should probably also try to get a priest to bless Obi. Who knows what kind of stuff you’re gonna be dragging home, all ooh come at me, demons! Suck my dick!”

Shane laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked a demon to do me that type of favor. Do you want me to? Is this your way of hinting at hidden kinks, Ryan?”

“No! Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m dating you. You don’t even believe in ghosts! How are we going to raise Obi?”

“Obi also doesn't believe in ghosts. He's a believer in science and facts.”

“He's a cat, and cats are connected to the supernatural. That's a fact.”

“That is not a fact.”

“Yes it is. Isn’t that right, Obi? Isn’t it a fact that you can sense spirits?”

Obi, the traitor, runs to Ryan at the sound of him calling his name, purring loudly when Ryan pets him.

“I can’t believe you're turning him against me.”

But then Ryan grins up at him triumphantly, eyes bright and happy. And Shane thinks he can more than put up with sage and ghost talk for the rest of his life.

Because Ryan is just _it._  


Even a fucking jukebox ghost knew it. Ghosts are a bunch of malarkey, no question, but maybe, _possibly_ there’s something to that old jukebox in Memphis. Maybe he’ll tell Ryan that on their tenth wedding anniversary, how he’d kept trying to downplay his crush on Ryan, how he’d felt for just a second like maybe it was possible for a ghost to look into him and tell him he was full of shit.

“It'll be me and Obi on team Boogara. We're gonna stay up late reading ghost stories and watching true crime documentaries. You sure you don't wanna join the team?”

“I have morals and convictions that I don't throw away just because a cute boy pets me, unlike Obi.”

“So I'm cute?”

“That's not the point.”

“How cute do you think I am? Like a nine? A ten?”

“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” Shane says, turning away for all of three seconds before turning back and pulling Ryan to him. Because now he can. “An eleven,” he admits, before kissing him.

Obi’s going to be very happy, he thinks. And Shane? Shane’s gonna be pretty damn happy too.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at miraclesofpaul.tumblr.com


End file.
